


To Love a Valkyrie

by SunsetSky412



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Crime Savvy Liz, Friends to Lovers, Liz and Dembe are Bros, On the Run, Post-Season/Series 02 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-01-05 15:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetSky412/pseuds/SunsetSky412
Summary: ‘The greatest thing, you’ll ever learn, is how to love and be loved in return.’One bullet. One bullet and she had joined his world. Branded a Russian enemy of the United States that was who she                       would become. A smile on her lips and a gun in her hand.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I love this dynamic and relationship. I knew I wanted to explore it as soon as I found the show.

“Agent Keen?”

Liz looked up from the file she’d been staring at for the past thirty minutes. Sixty-four pages. The most information she had ever complied on one target.

Aram lingered in the doorway, his eyes not quite meeting her own. It had been that way for a few weeks.

“Everyone’s ready for you.”

“Thanks,” She offered a gentle smile which he couldn’t help but return. Even that small hint of affection made her feel slightly better.

Grabbing the file, she followed Aram out of her office to where the rest of the team stood waiting in the main bullpen.

Ressler stepped over to take a place by her side, quickly squeezing her shoulder before letting it fall away. Since her reinstatement a month ago he had rarely been found anywhere else.

Cooper simply gave her a nod, although she could read the compassion in his eyes.

“Right listen up,” The director announced, looking around to address not just his main agents but the entire black site, “I know there has been uncertainty about our operation these past few weeks. The role of this taskforce after everything that’s happened. Information has been held while necessary precautions have been put in place for verification and security. Today is when our new agenda begins.”

He glanced to Liz who took the cue and tapped a keyboard to bring up an array of images on the screens. Ariel shots of locations across the world, surveillance stills of buildings, security snaps of transport and hotels. But the ones that stood out, that immediately drew the rooms eye, were the scanned polaroids collected in the middle screen.

The ones she had personally supplied.

Reddington looking over the rim of a scotch glass with a teasing smirk.

The man captured mid-laugh as the splash of a dolphin fin soaked his suit.

A soft grin as he posed in an awful canary yellow suit with green polka dots.

Mock outrage aimed at a blonde woman with joy in her eyes and the remain of cake on her hand. Of which the rest was smudged across the Concierge of Crimes cheek.

A blonde Elizabeth Keen.

The agent who stepped forward had little similarity to the laughing woman in the photo. Her tone was cold and a steel gaze purposefully locked onto each set of curious eyes in the room.

“I was on the run with Raymond Reddington for a year. Falsely charged with murder and treason by a small group of senior officials who have now been discovered for their crimes by the CIA. During this year I learnt the true nature of Reddington. His charm, his displays of care, the light joking manner we all grew to know…”

Her jaw clenched, “All a manipulation to hide the narcissistic and violent criminal he truly is.”

She threw the thick file onto a desk, “I have complied everything I know about Reddington and his operations including an extensive profile from my time with him. This will be supplied to everyone. Study and memorise it all.”

Cooper took over, “This taskforce was originally set up to work alongside Reddington. Because of this we have the best chance at doing what many of us believe should have always been the case; catching him.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the room. Yet still a few cast quick unsure glances at their fellow agents. Aram purposefully didn’t look to Agent Navabi. Her and Agent Ressler’s opinions on the matter were clear.

“Dead or alive.”

The room went silent again. Drawn back to the woman staring up at the photos on the screen.

“Preferably the former.”

No louder than a whisper but it was heard by all.

The words lingered in the room as she turned and retreated back into her office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not fear - all is not as it seems. Which is a given with the Blacklist I guess.
> 
> Truthfully, I have only watched up to the end of Season 4 because I fell out with certain decisions (a particular ex-husband redemption for one) and it was the earlier dynamic I loved. More so though, I started to miss the intelligent, doesn't care what people say, does what she wants Liz that I fell in love with. Which elements did still show in later seasons but not as well as those first two I think.
> 
> And those ten episodes in season three showed a side of her that seemed to really enjoy getting to bring justice from the other side of the law. Those were some giant grins when her and Red were running their schemes.  
So in this I wanted to explore a Liz who embraced becoming a part of Red's world whilst not loosing that fight for the people and what's right spark. Equally, to explore their relationship where Red is shown she is his equal and not just there to protect. 
> 
> Shout-out to Moulin Rouge for borrowing their beautiful line.
> 
> Haven't written anything for this particular fandom before so hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz takes a moment in the madness.

_One Year Earlier_

Liz had never really understood the fascination with flying. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. As a child, she remembered each year classmates excitedly coming back after their first flight and describing the event in exaggerated detail. Every new story building up this wonderous experience. The awe of getting to fly on an actual aeroplane.

It wasn’t until she was seven that her dad took her along on his flight to DC for some work.

A thrum of excitement pulsed through her all the way from parking at the airport to stepping onto the plane. But then they’d lifted off and she was just sitting in a smelly tube with a crowd of bored looking strangers with only clouds and tiny specks of distant colour to look at for entertainment.

She sat with a scowl throughout the journey, stewing over the lies her classmates had told her.

A private jet was obviously a big step up from an economy seat on a domestic flight but it couldn’t change the indifference she had since fostered towards flying.

“Lizzie.”

A gentle train ride across the landscape, that’s what more people should do.

“Lizzie.”

Much better for the environment as well. She really didn’t want to calculate how bad her carbon footprint had become these days.

“Elizabeth.”

A hand lightly touched her leg and she blinked. Reddington was crouched in front of her, his eyes scanning her face with that soft deep concern that had grown so familiar.

She looked down at him, her brows furrowed, “What did you say?”

His mouth tightened but quickly smoothed out again, “Where is your mind at Lizzie?”

It was doubtful that had been the original question. He had been talking about the best regions of the world for oysters when she had been tuned in. This happened sometimes. Zoning out. Forgetting she murdered a man in cold blood a few weeks ago as a follow up to her first murder at four years old.

“Just wondering how much we’ve contributed to global warming these past weeks.”

He obviously didn’t believe her but he chuckled nonetheless.

“If it helps, I do contribute to numerous clean energy initiatives worldwide,” His hand stroked along her knee as he lifted himself next to her on the sofa, “In fact there is a small town in England which is completely powered by a wind farm of mine.”

Her smile was instinctive. The room became sharper once more as the dark thoughts retreated into the back of her mind.

“Red’s Renewable Energy. Has a nice ring to it.”

His own expression relaxed alongside hers, “We only have one planet,” He took a sip of his scotch, “Plus it is ludicrously profitable after the initial down payments.”

Liz rolled her eyes but placed her hand on top of the one still on her leg and gave it a light squeeze, before standing up to stretch. There had been many ups and downs since Raymond Reddington had entered her life, but one constant she had come to notice was that he could always make her feel better. Mostly when he wasn’t actually trying.

Her back clicked in satisfaction. She had been sitting down for far too long.

“Where are we going again? I feel like I’ve already been around the whole world even though I haven’t seen any of the sights.”

Red held back a grimace. Lizzie was making the comment in jest, but he did feel irritation that she hadn’t been able to enjoy any of the countries they’d flown between since they had left America.

They had only just made it out of DC. If the van carrying Lizzie had been two more cars behind, she would have been stuck behind Ressler’s roadblock. Her former partner had been relentless from the moment he got tasked with bringing her in and due to that they have had to keep a constant jump between countries, including a number of doubles and fake reports, to clean the track behind them.

It had hardly been ideal. Those first two weeks she had been at her most vulnerable in a mental sense. He could tell that the moving and hiding like lowly fugitives played into her struggles with what she had done. And although he would never see her as anything less than the strong, brilliant woman that she was the medias portrayal was all she could believe of herself.

The past few days he had witnessed her self-preservation beat down that internal self-hatred that was festering and she had clambered back to something nearing her normal self.

Yet he knew things were not so simple. For he knew what it was to push down the horrors of decisions, and they never disappeared, no matter how hard one pretended it was so.

That was why in all he could not do for her he would make it up by providing everything and anything that was possible of him.

Beginning with a break from the narrative of being a wanted criminal.

“Slovenia.” He rose and placed a hand on the small of her back, “A beautiful home in the hills overlooking Lake Bled belonging to a friend of mine who practically begs me to visit the place. Mainly due to the fact he is a money hoarder who doesn’t wish to pay to have the property maintained so uses my dime to do so instead.”

He guided her to the belted seats as the sign came on to indicate they were arriving, “I have planned for us to take residence for three weeks if that is agreeable with you.”

“Three weeks?” A new spark shone in her eye, “Are you sure?”

“By now Donald will be following so many trails he will hardly be able to remember where he has already looked. We will now be able to afford longer rests at our locations. This venture has been under a greater spotlight than I’ve partaken in for quite some time but my mantra holds for this as much as any previous.”

Liz raised an eyebrow expectantly.

He lifted his glass to her, “My enemies will always run out of funds before I do.”

She didn’t hold back her laugh and it danced around them. She knew she should probably feel guilty since in this case the enemy were her friends in an organisation that she had pled herself to many years ago. But this whole thing was so crazy it had to be funny. She was most likely crazy. Reddington was definitely some level of crazy.

She had to laugh otherwise she’d just cry and that would be no help to either of them.

*****

“You stay here long?”

Liz turned to the elderly man, sweeping her newly blonde hair out of her face. She’d often thought about trying the shade when she was a teenager. Turns out her younger self had a good eye.

“Ne vem,” She offered with a slight shrug.

The gentleman beamed at her, “Zelo dobro! Italy? I have good ear.”

“Da,” An Italian accent indeed present in her voice, “I always heard it was beautiful here but I think my friends did not tell me how much on purpose.”

He laughed, deepening the lines around his face which had been formed from a long life of showing kindness and finding happiness. It was what stood out to her as she’d walked along the lake shore. A kind old man whistling to himself as he fed seeds to a bird resting on the edge of his little wooden boat. Then as she’d neared, she had seen the gentle caress of his wedding band, a soft sigh as his gaze briefly unfocused across the water and how he was not just whistling but also quietly chattering to the bird.

She may not quite know what it was to lose a spouse who you simply loved pure and simple. But she knew what it was to feel lonely when you no longer had one.

The man, Izak, had been more than happy to give the pretty Italian tourist a ride out on the lake.

“They want to keep it to themselves!” He beamed, gesturing out to the view around them. A vibrant blue stretch of water overlooked by mountains of rich green trees. In the centre, a tiny island holding an old stone castle; its larger sibling guarding it from a cliff edge above. There was a stillness and peace to the whole area. Refusing to be overshadowed by, or succumb to the humans that visited.

“I live here all my life and I never thought to leave – never.”

Liz could understand why, “That sounds wonderful.”

He seemed to notice something in her tone, “You have somewhere like this?”

She leant down and ran her fingers through the water. She knew he wasn’t just talking about the view.

“I thought I did,” She sighed, lifting her hand and letting drops of water break her reflection, “But the beauty of it wasn’t what it seemed.”

She felt Izak sit down next to her, “So, you miss that beauty?”

“Yes and no.” A small fish neared her hand but quickly fled just before it touched her. “I miss what I had, because it was perfect and all I had ever wanted. But then I don’t miss it because it wasn’t true. If that makes sense?”

“To miss what is not real – it sounds hard.”

Her hand swayed in the lake. Drops of water continued to fall on the surface.

“It is.”

A light touch settled on her arm and she looked to the man. He had a hand placed over his heart.

“If you feel it here, it is real. You miss that. It does not matter what real or not. You miss what was here.”

He patted his heart for emphasis, his gold wedding band lightly ringing as it hit the button on his pocket shirt.

She blinked back her tears and mirrored his action.

Her life had not stopped for so long. She had never had time to think about what was happening. She just had to keep pushing to the next thing and keep pushing and pushing with no end in sight. This week just sitting and looking out over a quiet lake it had all caught up with her.

And seeing an old man on a boat had made her wonder if Tom would look like that one day.

She hated him so much.

But that same hate couldn’t understand the love she felt so strongly for so many years.

It was why she’d gone to him that night.

Why she hated herself the next morning.

It had swirled through her with no outlet.

All her other demons she could scream about and Red would listen. She hadn’t done that but she knew he would. She knew he would look at her in that way that said there was nothing wrong with how she felt and that she had done nothing wrong. Even though that was so far from the truth.

Yet his hatred for Tom was deep and although he would understand that in her he would not understand this.

He would not understand how she desperately wished she could still love her once husband.

“Your wife? Can you tell me about her?”

The large smile returned to Izak’s face, “Čudovito. Srce in duša. Beautiful in heart and soul. I first saw her when I was young man. On this boat!”

Liz tucked her legs underneath her body. The warm joy of the man’s tone and body language washing over her.

“I come back from getting fish. Smrdljiv. Fish smell on me and I look across to little café and she is sitting there. Yellow dress. Long hair under big flower hat. Sun shine on her. I fall in love.”

He clapped a hand against the side of his head, “But I do not speak to her! I am a coward! I see her everyday for three weeks then one day I come off boat, look to her as I do every day but this time she has two drink. Always she only have one. To je vse! I wait too long – she must have a man with her. But as I walk past she says my name! She had seen me that first day as well and had been to shy to say hello. But she gets brave before me and this time has two drinks and asks me to sit with her. I stay by her side from that day – till her last.”

Liz smiled, “That’s a beautiful story.”

Izak nodded his head. He stood up and un-looped the rope from the wheel which had been keeping them gently heading in a straight line, stirring them around to the left. He pointed a finger at her, “But you know how I knew she was one for me?”

She shook her head.

“She came back and waited. Not knowing if I noticed her or not. She waited for the small hope that I would join her for a drink.”

It was hard to imagine love as a lasting concept after having it ripped away in such a humiliating and cruel manner. Yet one stranger, on a boat in a country she had never been to before, humming softly to himself as he remembered his late wife helped start to rebuild the idea.

They were silent as he guided them back to shore. Both comfortably lost in their own memories. She was glad she had snuck out of the house and come down. She felt more at peace with a part of herself than she had in a long time. The whole incident with Tom had got drowned out by so many other things that she hadn’t quite realised how fresh the wound still felt. It was still there, but now she believed it could begin to heal in a way that would hopefully be permanent.

Liz was aware she’d have to deal with an outburst from Reddington as soon as she stepped back onto land. She wasn’t heartless, she had left a note explaining that she was heading down to the lake but he had made it clear he did not want her going anywhere in public without him by her side.

The request was entirely justified however it was also entirely against her nature to be told what she can or can’t do.

The fact she had lasted until now since they had gone on the run was impressive.

Yet it was now reaching almost four hours since she had left and truthfully, she was beginning to feel slightly anxious without an awareness of where he immediately was.

At this point her life did not hold much in it and strangely Reddington was the most stable and familiar thing she had left.

The small jetty came into view and immediately she noticed a fedora resting on one of the tables in the restaurant behind. The owner sitting with his chair faced towards the lake.

Liz did not rush her farewell despite feeling the gaze on her back as they docked. She helped Izak tie off the boat and gladly accepted his warm embrace as she stepped onto the pavement, giving him a light kiss on the cheek as well, “Ciao.”

“Nasvidenje.” He patted her hand, “You be okay?”

Liz glanced back to where Red was now chatting to a waiter, “I think so.”

Izak followed her gaze and smiled, “Maybe this time be real.”

Liz didn’t bother to correct him; it was nice to leave him thinking she had already found something. Yet his words did hit. For she did hope that one day she would get to a place where she found something real. Perhaps not in romance or a career. Or perhaps in both. But real and without agenda was a nice hope to have in whatever form it could manifest.

“Mogoče,” She gave his hand one last squeeze and headed over to the restaurant.

Expecting a reprimand, she was surprised when Red simply beamed up at her in that manner that suggested there was no other person he would rather have before him. It used to make her feel uncomfortable. In this moment, it made her smile.

“Lizzie!” He gestured to the opposite chair which had a glass of red wine sat in front, matching the one in his hand, “I took the liberty of getting us the regions specialty. Cvicek, is named the ‘king’ in Lower Carniola although such a title could be argued for any wines throughout Slovenia. The country actually holds the oldest grapevine in the world, providing the sweetest of grapes for over four hundred years.”

“A little early for wine isn’t it?” She took a sip; it was of course delicious.

“My dear Lizzie, do you know how one of Slovenia’s greatest poets once described their wine?”

“I think we’d both be surprised if I did.”

He chuckled, having a taste of his own drink before placing it to the side and leaning forward. His arms rested on the table; his hands clasped a few inches from where a few of her fingers were lightly fiddling with a napkin.

She was drawn forward as his next words passed between them in a soft hush.

_“The vintage, friends, is over, and here sweet wine makes, once again, sad eyes and hearts recover.”_

The tears she had blinked away on the boat welled up once more.

Red placed a gentle touch over her fingers, “I do not pretend to know what you are suffering. And I realise that although I wish to help you in everything there are many things you do not wish to discuss with me. Perhaps you wish to never speak of your demons at all to me. That is fine, I do not presume to have any right to them. But know that if there is anything in my power that can make your pain lessen even by the slightest amount, I will make it so.”

He raised an eyebrow, “If in the future, that could not include waking to your disappearance with only an easily forgeable note as explanation it would be greatly appreciated.”

A choked laugh burst from her lips and she wiped away a stray tear that had escaped down her cheek.

“It must have been strange having to do your own leg work to track me down.”

“Well my Slovenian has been put to practice. Although there is a high chance that the locals surrounding the lake believe I am seeking my blonde-haired dog. Honestly, I had little knowledge to practice with in the first place.”

Liz shook her head, a warmth filling her heart at the playful smirk on his lips.

She turned over her hand and linked her fingers with his. Moving her gaze to look out over the water.

A silence settled.

A child ran past wearing a bright red cape.

The waiter collected empty plates from the table next to theirs.

Two men in sponsored uniforms sped by on bicycles.

“I sometimes wish I could still love Tom.”

The hand in her own tensed.

But then it lifted hers up and she felt a gentle kiss placed on the inside of her wrist.

They sat and watched the boats until the sun dipped behind the hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will stay in the past for a while now. 
> 
> I have actually been to Lake Bled and it is indeed a stunning place, well worth a visit if you are ever in Slovenia.  
If you are interested the Slovenian poet Red quotes he is called France Prešeren.
> 
> I decided to post the first chapter alongside the prologue since the former was quite short. I have written a few chapters already but most likely I will post around once a week so I can keep up with the writing. It may quicken depending on how quick I write but no promises.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a party to attend.

Humanity as a whole had fallen.

Two months ago, he had released the most damning collection of evidence against the highest figures in the world and here he was reading headlines about a celebrity breakup and the spilt reviews over the latest Hollywood blockbuster.

To live without a need to know about the horrors that held up the society one walks among.

It must be a quaint thing.

The lack of pace kept by the general world media did not, however, signify that the Cabal were not feeling the ramifications of his actions. A large proportion of their funds had been withdrawn from third parties that did not wish to risk discovered links now the organisation was public. In countries where treason was given its due punishment key players had disappeared. There was a blackmark on the Cabal name and it was not encouraging offers of assistance.

Now was the time to maintain the offense. It was the core group in America which had to fall to collapse the structure for good. Yet to do this was not a simple task. Capitalism loved the rich and saw no crimes through a barricade of wealth.

His first step had become known two weeks ago and had forced him to cut their stay in Slovenia short.

“Have we heard from our contact yet?”

Dembe muted the television and made a show of looking at his watch before looking back to him, “No.”

Red huffed at the dramatics; well aware he had asked the same question only ten minutes ago.

“Why does Ralph take joy in specifically finding the laziest assets who have what I need. He does it on purpose I tell you.”

“Perhaps if you had not mistaken his wife for his brother.”

“It was a dark room! And Paul has very feminine features, it was more a comment on him than Annalise.”

Dembe hummed and unmuted the television to a tense build-up of music. His eyes narrowed as they announced the star baker of the week. A bold mixture of tastes did not excuse her mediocre glaze work.

Ressler had taken a step back on Dembe after tiring of being purposefully led to use maximum resources to simply keep an idea of where he was just after he had left. It was a game Dembe enjoyed. Seeing how many raids and undercover operations he could have executed in his name. It also allowed for him to visit Raymond for a small period of time, whilst the FBI put together reports arguing why they should be allowed to keep spending their money on tracking the bodyguard.

Red always appreciated his friend’s presence. Especially as he had yet to inform Elizabeth about their reason for risking coming the closest they had been to her home so far.

She wished to burn the Cabal to the ground. This was a given. Yet he was not sure if she would agree with the means in which it could be done. She was no longer in a world of law and order; she had stepped over into a moral land that knew only grey. It was why up to now, he had only given her information on potential targets they could push on or taken her along to meetings to gather intel. That was familiar. It was a shadow of their relationship as agent and informant.

However, that dynamic would provide few results now they lay on the same edge of the sword.

He had no doubt of her strength. Yet he did wonder if she could handle being faced with the reality that she had to step into the skin of the persona she had been given to meet their means.

It had been an internal torture when the choice had been his twenty-five years ago.

And he was not a good person to begin with. Not like Lizzie.

The French-door to the villa clicked open and she walked in, as if summoned by his thoughts.

“And how is the pool?” He closed his laptop and leant back in his chair. Showing no sign of the frustration that had been on his face.

Liz slipped off her sandals and switched her towel for the dress she had left hanging by the breakfast bar, “Surprisingly warm.”

“That is good to hear,” He smiled as she sat on the sofa opposite him, “I have not stayed at this particular establishment before, I am glad I was not led astray by the recommendations.”

Red tilted his head as she returned his smile. There was an element to it that made him feel like he was not privy to something. Which was not a feeling he liked.

Without a word Liz placed two items on the coffee table between them.

He blinked.

Mortifyingly he even felt his mouth fall slightly agape.

Two pure gold coins, each stamped with the insignia of a bird, sat before him.

The same type of coin he was waiting to be informed had been precured on his behalf.

Liz spoke as if she hadn’t just rendered him speechless, “I also went to the reception lodge to meet a concierge who I had requested deliver these to me personally. They’re tickets for myself and a guest to an exclusive gathering tomorrow night hosted by a man known as the Mockingbird. He holds an underground human fighting pit for the sick and wealthy.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I assume that’s the reason we’re in the Cayman Islands.”

Red could feel Dembe internally laughing at him.

Yet his focus could hardly escape the woman sitting in her bathing suit acting as if it was the easiest thing in the world to obtain entry to a violent paranoid criminal’s event.

She was absolutely glorious.

“How -” He cleared his throat, “How did you get these?”

“I am an internationally known Russian enemy of the United States.”

Once again, he had completely underestimated Elizabeth Keen.

It was delightful.

“So, who is this Mockingbird? And why do we care about him?” The teasing had gone. An unwavering gaze fixed on him that spoke to this being the only chance she was providing for him to get over himself and treat her as an equal.

Red re-opened his laptop and spun it around to show her an open article.

“Sebastian Reynolds. An American trust fund baby brought up in the elite of British society. The concept of work never appealed, but he did like money. This led to the obvious conclusion of using his funds to exploit those with none and gain from their need for loans.”

“So he’s a shark?”

“Unfortunately, he is more than that,” Red clasped his hands together, “Sebastian’s loans come with a time limit and if his money plus interest is not returned by the agreed deadline, the rest must be paid off in his fighting pits. However, when that deadline arrives, he actually offers a choice. The clients own service or a family member of Sebastian’s choosing. Who he will choose is not revealed when the choice is presented.”

Liz frowned, “I assume most of his clients are the kind who don’t take the fall themselves.”

“Indeed not. And Sebastian takes pleasure in selecting the members of the family who are furthest away from having any knowledge or link to criminal activity. Many men, women and even children have found themselves snatched to only awaken in a cruel world where they must fight to be given food or water.”

“How do they get out?”

Red clicked his tongue and shrugged, “He’s willing to take payment but the amount is always substantial. Honestly, most simply die in the pits. Often the only ones who know they are there are those who decided to let them reap the consequences for their own decisions. Not ideal candidates to mount a fuss or confess to the authorities in order to help.”

Liz gritted her teeth. The outrage blazing across her face.

“Don’t tell me we have to make some kind of deal with this guy.”

“No,” Red assured, “It is one of his fighters we need. She disappeared a year ago and I received word that this is where she has been.”

“We’re doing a break out?”

“That we are.”

“Good,” She nodded, looking at the picture of their next Blacklister one more time before sliding the laptop back, “Well the getting in part was easy enough.”

Red chuckled, “Yes it seems you beat me to it. I guess this time I will be your plus one.”

Liz stood up and picked up the coins, tapping one against her bottom lip, “I actually already have a plus one I’m afraid. You’ll have to find your own way in.”

She dropped one of the coins into Dembe’s waiting hand as she passed the couch and disappeared up the stairs.

Dembe didn’t even have the gall to turn away from his show.

“You would betray your oldest friend like this?”

The man shrugged, “You’ve never asked me to be your plus one.”

Red had been wrong. Elizabeth Keen walking on a path of justice and vengeance through the criminal world was going to be a sight of pure beauty.

And he was going to be sure to see every second of it.

* * * *

_Stop admiring the human trafficker’s mansion._

The thought went through her head for about the sixth time as they made their way down the patio steps. Why did criminals have to have such beautiful homes? It was just an unnecessary mockery to the world of decent human beings.

Dembe handed her a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Not that all criminals weren’t decent of course.

Besides she was one of them now.

Which really wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on.

“When do you think the fights start?” Liz asked. Her arm was linked under his own, his presence a steady comfort. She had wanted to show Red that she wasn’t here to simply be protected from his world. However, she didn’t have over twenty years of built up confidence among the piranhas so it was entirely reasonable to feel a bit anxious.

“I do not know,” His eyes subtly scanned their surroundings, “I assume it will be made clear.”

Liz took a sip of her drink. This whole plan was extremely loose. They knew who they were looking for but not where she was being kept. A couple of different escape routes had been planned but without knowing where they would be coming from, they may not even be viable.

Basically, they were doing the very Reddington technique of relying on wit, charm and instinct.

Or pure dumb luck as Liz replied when he had told her the plan.

They settled by a bar where they could look out over most of the guests. Liz perched on a stool with Dembe standing close to her side. There wasn’t much to do for now but wait. They needed the cover of the fights to go searching around the mansion for where the fighters were kept. That was hoping that their target wasn’t in the fight tonight.

Liz nudged Dembe with her elbow, “How angry was Red when he realised you had known that I was getting an in to this party?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, “I believe he was too in awe of you to care.”

She smiled into her drink. The look on his face when she had put the coins on the table had been priceless. Pure surprise. She wasn’t sure if she’d seen that before. There had also been admiration. Like she had proved something to him that he hadn’t been going to ask of her. It had felt good.

“Well anyway, I think after all your running you deserved a night out,” She held up her hand for the barman, “What are you having?”

“A diet coke please.”

Liz handed him the drink once it was poured, “At least one of you thinks about alcohol intake.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” He tapped his glass against her own.

A voice suddenly cut through the crowd.

“Agent Keen!”

Liz’s hand moved to where her gun was hidden but Dembe took a gentle hold of her wrist. His viewpoint already showing him who was approaching.

Sebastian Reynolds emerged with his arms wide open, “What an honour! When one of my guys told me _the_ Agent Keen was asking about my humble party, I was like yes, get that woman here!”

Liz stood up and allowed him to kiss her on the cheek. His hands remained placed on her shoulders.

She laughed, “Well I was in the neighbourhood and thought it sounded fun.”

“That’s what I’m all about!” Reynolds smirked, lowering his voice as if they were sharing a secret, “I bet you can’t wait for a bit of fun after having to be Miss FBI all those years. I still can’t believe Russia got a sleeper agent so deep in. You must be very good.”

“I must.”

“And you went out with such a bang! It was so cool! Just boom, straight up murdering the Attorney General in cold blood!”

Liz’s breath got caught in her throat.

“What was that like? Did he have this look of shock thinking, oh no, why is one of my agents shooting me?”

Her hands were slippery. There was a hand on her back. Her drink was taken. Why were her hands so slippery?

“I hear an FBI director was there to. Shame you didn’t kill him as well.”

Gun residue. She could smell it. It was all over her.

“The news said you were running with Raymond Reddington – why isn’t he here?”

“I am.”

The breath in her throat released. The room came back. Dembe had an arm around her waist which she realised was holding her up. Red was in front of her. His arm replaced Dembe’s and she automatically raised hers to his shoulder, lightly gripping his suit as she let herself be tucked into his side.

“Woah! _The_ Raymond Reddington!”

Red laughed in that cold manner reserved for those whose careers he did not respect, “Sebastian – I’ve heard so much.”

Reynolds lit up even more, not picking up any undercurrent to the words, “You’ve heard about me! That is awesome!” A man came over and whispered something in his ear, “Hey guys, I got to go and get things ready. But was amazing meeting you all, so glad you could come. We’ll catch up after!”

He bounced away, like a child at a birthday party rather than a man holding an event that forced abductees to fight for survival.

“Lizzie,” Red’s voice breathed next to her ear, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, still focused on bringing her heartbeat down.

A finger stroked along the top of her face, moving a strand of hair out of her eye. She looked at him, his concern was not trying to hide, “Sorry, yes I’m fine.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I –“ She swallowed, “I guess it’s just, I knew what everyone thinks of me, what I’ve done. But hearing it like that…” She closed her eyes, “It’s terrifying because… he’s not wrong. I did shoot Connelly in cold blood.”

Neither noticed Dembe step forward, blocking any onlookers view to the two of them.

Red placed a kiss to her forehead. His lips pressed against her like he was trying to push out all her pain, “His facts may be true but know this, you did not shot Tom in cold blood. He was going to destroy your friends. You were saving them.”

That was not the whole truth. She didn’t really know what the truth was yet. But she knew it wasn’t all of it. Why had she shot him? Why had she aimed a kill shot?

“Lizzie?” Red cupped her face gently in his hands, “Are you with me?”

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter right now. It was done. She wasn’t there she was here. Red didn’t think she was a monster. He saw them every day. He would know.

“Lizzie?”

She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath through her nose, counted to three, then slowly released it from her mouth. When she opened them, he was still focused on her. Looking nowhere but at her. She gently slid his hands away from her face, giving them a light squeeze before dropping them, “I’m with you.”

He didn’t look fully assured but he took her word, “Of course you are.”

Now that she had recovered from her small blackout, the hint of embarrassment that it had just happened in the middle of their operation hit her. She said the first thing she could think of to move them all forward from her moment.

“Dembe, another man is moving on your date and you’re just letting it happen.”

Her plus one slowly turned back around and looked at Red’s arm that had linked back through hers.

He locked his friend with a chilling stare.

“Sir, do you wish to duel over the lady’s hand?”

Liz burst into laughter.

Red stepped forward, “Guns at high noon or swords at dusk?”

She wiped the water from her eyes, struggling to stop her giggles. An overwhelming fondness for these two men engulfing her.

“Okay while that sounds amazing, maybe let’s hold off until we’ve rescued a damsel first.”

Everything was immediately back to business.

“Indeed,” Red placed a hand on her back, guiding them into the mansion, “I have precured a lead on that front. You see the gentleman wearing khaki pants with a suit jacket?”

Liz smiled at the disgust in his tone, “Is he relevant or did you just want to point out his fashion choice?”

“Either wear a suit or don’t, there is no need to violate two outfits,” He muttered, “However, yes he is relevant. Despite the clothes, he is a fine mercenary who has worked on a few of my operations over the years. Gun for hire, doesn’t care what the work is. Yet he equally cares little for loyalty and has no qualms in sharing information.”

A quiet noise came from Dembe which Liz was fairly certain sounded like a scoff.

“Dembe is not a fan.”

Liz crossed her arms, “Why would you hire someone you knew wouldn’t keep your secrets?”

“He is very good at what he does,” Red shrugged, “Besides those of us who conduct thorough research on all hires are aware and withhold information accordingly. Or only hire him for jobs where secrecy is of no consequence. Fortunately for us, Reynolds is not on our level.”

“Did you know he was working here?” She narrowed her eyes.

“I suspected,” He smirked, “And I was correct. The fighters are kept on an offshore boat and only transported on-land for these events. Reynolds doesn’t like having them spread over too many locations. This means they all get moved from a ship that remains at sea, to a yacht which docks near his location. Tonight, it is the one docked at the jetty just out that window. Only the people actually fighting get brought into the venue. They are currently in the east wing of the mansion.”

“The woman we’re looking for? Sophie Pierce – where is she?”

Red pursed his lips, “That I do not know. Hence, we will have to spread our resources.”

He did not look comfortable with his own suggestion. Liz knew that was her fault. She had stirred up his protective tendencies towards her. Not that much was needed for that to happen.

“I’ll go check out the yacht.”

Red opened his mouth, most likely to disagree, but caught himself and paused.

Liz felt a flurry of affection.

It seemed he really was trying to reign in his desire to control every situation she was in. She had noticed it since they had gone on the run. Little things that a year ago, she would have never got away with without a fight or later discovering he had a hand in anyway. She wasn’t quite sure what had changed for him. Their dynamic? There were no longer lines between them. No longer information he had to withhold due to her obligations to the bureau. Perhaps, but that didn’t quite seem like it could be the whole story.

“Yes, Dembe will accompany you.”

She caught Dembe’s eye and despite his expression remaining neutral, she knew they were sharing an exasperated look of _what can you do?_

Neither liked Dembe separating from Red when there was danger around.

A gong sounded. An actual gong.

Liz assumed that was to indicate the fights were ready to begin because why else would you ring a gong.

Red placed a quick kiss on the back of her hand and melted into the crowd that was descending down a side staircase.

Liz bit her bottom lip. He would be fine.

She took a hold of Dembe’s arm and pulled him down the corridor to a door that led to the lower patio. The quicker they searched the boat, the quicker she could check on Red.

* * * *

“Honey! Look at the boat!”

The guard shifted his hand to the gun on his belt as a pretty blonde woman stumbled up the jetty. A tall stoic man following behind her.

“That’s the kind I wanted!” She chugged her champagne flute and let it fall to the floor, “Why didn’t you get it for me?”

He stepped forward and raised a hand to signal her to stop, “Ma’am this is a private vessel.”

“I told him – ah!” The guard caught her. His gaze lingered down as the young woman wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pressed up against him, “I’m so sorry, I may have had a teeny bit too much.”

Then it went dark.

Liz slid the gun out of his holster as he fell. She raised an eyebrow at Dembe, who calmly stood as if it were no effort to knock out a man with only his fist.

“He moved on my date.”

Liz grinned and stepped onto the yacht. She glanced around the sides and through the window onto the main deck. There were two men sitting on the couch playing cards. The prisoners were most likely below and she assumed there would be a few more guards with them.

Dembe threw a pile of nets over their tied-up man and slid to her side.

He took a look and pulled out his gun. He fixed a silencer to the end of it.

Liz’s jaw clenched.

Dembe gestured his head to the door.

They were bad guys. It was the same as when she’d do raids with the bureau.

Except it wasn’t because they weren’t going to shout a warning. They were just going to kill them in the middle of their card game.

She swallowed and crouched down by Dembe’s legs, reaching up for the door handle.

His foot tapped her and she swung the door open. Two whistles and two bodies slumped forward.

Dembe stepped in and she followed, her gun also drawn.

They headed down the stairs. The door was open and they took position on either side.

The whole lower deck had been cleared of furnishings. Instead it was lined with what she presumed were cages; they were all covered with black cloth so she couldn’t tell for sure. It was also eerily quiet for a vessel holding kidnap victims.

One guard stood directly in front of them holding an automatic. He had his back to the door. They couldn’t see around the corners of the cages without going into the room and getting noticed by the first guy.

Dembe strode straight in, a bullet whisking through the guard’s head as he spun around to the sound of footsteps.

Shouts came from the left. Surprised. There was a panicked shuffling of weapons they must have not had ready. Two more silent shots.

Dembe walked down the room to check they were clear.

Liz stepped in and whisked away the cloth nearest to her.

“Oh my gosh.”

Three children stared up at her. Their hands and legs chained together and to the floor. Their mouths were covered in duck-tape that wrapped all the way around their heads. They could only be fourteen or fifteen.

“Dembe.”

He turned to her voice and saw what she was looking at. He quickly began to pull off the cloths from the rest of the cages.

Liz knelt down and slowly put her gun away. The kids tried to scramble away from her but their chains didn’t let them move far.

“It’s okay,” She whispered, holding up her hands, “I’m not here to hurt you. You’re going to be okay.”

Dembe took her arm and pulled her up to speak quietly into her ear, “She is not here. We must go.”

Liz snatched her arm back, “What! We can’t just leave them here!”

Her eyes scanned over the rest of the room. There were around thirty people in total. These three were the youngest but none of them looked to have had proper medical care or nourishment in a long time.

Dembe held up a radio, “There are more guards in the house. They have just requested a check-in which has not been answered.”

“We just need to find the keys – or a crow bar or something!”

“There is no time. We must get back to Raymond.”

She wanted to scream at him, accuse him of having no heart but she knew it wasn’t true. He was just able to shut off his heart to think practically.

Liz nodded and followed him back up.

She glanced back to the kids; they weren’t even trying to call her back. As if they had never expected her to help.

As they returned back through the main deck something caught the corner of her eye.

There were keys in the ignition.

Dembe was already off the boat and had started running up the jetty.

He slid to a halt as the roar of an engine sounded.

“Elizabeth!”

He sprinted back but the boat was already pulling away. He only caught a glimpse of her mouthing an apology before she disappeared up the coast.

A series of shouts burst out from the mansion and a shot rang out over his head.

He ran and jumped off the jetty onto the beach, heading back for the house.

Dembe hoped that Raymond would simply be overawed by this event too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Liz and Dembe could become close buds.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People don't appreciate their boats being stolen.

Red took an offered handkerchief and wiped the spot of blood from his cheek.

The savagery of the first fight was immediate.

Reynolds began the proceedings with the flair of a circus ringleader. Introducing the two participants as if they were here in search of glory rather than out of force.

They were on each other the second the bell rang, which gave the assumption that they were veterans of his collection. The fight was all these two men knew now.

He surveyed the room. Men dressed in thousand-dollar suits. Women wearing jewellery that lived inside vaults. Their faces screwed up in blood-lust as they screeched in laughter, jeered and clapped, waved money at one another for bets. It was an image to be captured in a Renaissance painting, depicting the true face of wealth.

Was his own face to be recognised in such a picture?

There was a greater number of guards placed by the exits than he had calculated. It seemed Reynolds wished to keep his guests all together when the fights occurred.

Fortunately, there had been no qualms in keeping the fighters’ entry point disclosed. A door which Red had managed to place behind him. The only issue was there seemed to be little hope of attention wavering.

Across the room one of the security detail put a hand to his ear. He hit the man next to him and gestured up the stairs, unclipping a radio and frantically speaking into it. There was a response of movement around the ring and the guards peeled away with guns drawn to disappear up the stairs. The one next to Reynolds whispered into his ear and rage crossed his face.

Red was through the door as soon as the guard behind him had left.

He really hoped that stroke of luck wasn’t due to Lizzie, but he knew it was doubtful.

She would be fine, Dembe was with her.

He ran it as a mantra through his mind.

A corridor was leading him upwards. He plastered himself against the wall and slowly continued forward as he neared angry voices cursing at one another.

“Well it’s not our fault!”

“It would have been if you hadn’t switched positions.”

They didn’t have a chance to raise their weapons.

Red’s gun swept the room as he stepped over their bodies.

There were six people chain up to radiators and it seemed fortune was on his side; he put away his gun and knelt in front of Sophie.

“Sophie Pierce?” He spoke softly, lowering his head to see her face hidden underneath a greasy fringe.

She jerked at her name, wide eyes snapping open.

“You worked for Edison’s Oil?”

Tears welled up and she bit the insides of her cheeks.

Red leant back and pulled a set of keys from the guard’s pocket, he dangled them in front of her, “Miss Pierce – your freedom will only cost you answers to my questions.”

She nodded.

He put the key in the lock and she spoke her first word as he felt a pressure on the back of his head.

“No!”

Red dropped the keys and slowly raised his hands, “I’m sorry – is this not the bathroom?”

“I don’t like rude people Mr Reddington, and this seems pretty rude to me.”

He stood up and turned to face Reynolds, who was standing a few steps behind the man holding the gun to his face, “It seems strange that manners are where your morals draw the line considering.”

The young man’s face twitched, he was trying to hide his panic.

What had Lizzie done?

“Bring him.”

His hands were tied behind his back and he was led through the mansion into a large office decorated with vile contemporary art. Reynolds discomfort provided him with the opposite emotion as it meant something was wrong that he hadn’t yet fixed. That would not be the case if he had the perpetrator of his worry.

The assurance swept away on seeing Dembe knelt in the middle of the floor, his hands also tied and a gun to his head.

Reynolds gestured to his man and Red was pushed to his knees as well.

The young man cleared his throat and leant on the desk in front of them. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and placed them on the desk instead. He coughed again and stood up straight, settling his hands in his pockets.

“Where has your Russian girlfriend taken my fighters?”

Red blinked.

He turned to Dembe, “She stole the boat?”

His friend just looked at him.

Red took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “She stole the boat.”

Reynolds slapped the desk, not appreciating being ignored, “Yes she stole the boat! You should know, you’re in charge of her! So you better tell me right now where she’s gone!”

Red chuckled, “I think people need to learn that nobody is in charge of Elizabeth Keen. Let alone me.”

“Why were you at my party then? If you didn’t know what she was going to do why were you here? For that girl?”

“Oh no I just came along for the entertainment,” He smirked, “I simply thought I could gather some intel from your fighters about their owner whilst I was here. Knowledge is my business after all.”

The man was clearly spiralling. He had no idea where Lizzie was and he now only had eight prisoners left. The ones she had absconded with had also become damning evidence against him.

“Shut up!” Reynolds screamed, running his hands through his hair.

“If I could offer some advice,” He tilted his head in a manner suggesting his arms would be spread if not tied, “I would leave everything here and quickly jet off to the nearest non-extradition island. I honestly have no idea what Miss Keen is planning but one option could easily be sending a force of armed police to this location. She could be speaking to them right now.”

“No! No!” He lurched forward and pointed a finger in Red’s face, hissing through gritted teeth, “That’s what you want me to think.”

“Yes,” Red calmly replied, “That is why it’s called advice.”

“I’m not falling for it! What – I leave and she sweeps back in and takes over my operation? No, I’m staying right where I am.”

Red was beginning to wonder how this man had actually been able to run his operation for so long. Clearly this was his first time in a situation which money couldn’t solve. Blind trust in the commodity had been the pitfall of many a criminal.

A cold smile spread across Reynold’s face, “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to do what I do best and give my guests a show. Cause it looks like I’ve got two brand new fighters.”

He had been hoping the man wasn’t going to develop that particular idea.

* * * *

Cries of delight mixed with scattered groans echoed as Sophie Pierce smacked against the wooden ring and crumpled to the floor.

“We have a winner! Give it up for Mr Bliss!”

Mr Bliss didn’t react. He stood with an unfocused stare, blood dripping from his fists until a guard locked chains around his wrists and led him out of the room. Another one came over and dragged Pierce off in the same direction, leaving a trail of red. Only a faint groan as her head bumped over the door rim indicated that she was still alive.

Reynolds had thought it fun to have a warm up fight before his starring guest.

Red looked at the girl’s blood. She would have fought tonight whether he was here or not. Yet he had been here and he had been caught trying to set her free. The guilt was his to carry.

“Next, I have a special treat for you lovely ladies and gentlemen!” Reynolds twirled around in the middle of the ring, “A few of you may have met him. Most of you may know him. All of you will have heard his name. Tonight, in his first starring appearance, I give you the Concierge of Crime himself, Raymond Reddington!”

He threw his arms wide as the crowd cheered.

Red glanced to Dembe, who was chained to the wall, then stepped into the ring before the guard could push him forward.

“Thank you, Sebastian for such a - lyrical welcome. It’s a pleasure to be here I’m sure; although as you can see,” He smirked as he raised his wrists which were chained together, “I had little choice in the matter.”

The audience laughed and he took satisfaction from the twitch under Reynolds left eye.

Unfortunately, his captor overestimated the calibre of criminals who attended his little events. Some of them may have heard the whisper of the name Reddington but taking them in there were none that had any connection to the levels he worked at. If they did, he would not still be standing in these cuffs.

It would seem a fight was inevitable.

Although it did not seem fair to the poor starved soul he would be matched to.

“Sebastian, if you would be so kind.”

He held out his hands. He could easily snap the man’s neck, however in the corner of his eye he could see the gun that remained pressed against Dembe’s head. Incentive to play along.

Reynold’s smile no longer held humour, clearly not appreciating the blasé attitude of his prisoner, “Oh no I think we’ll keep those on. You _are_ a professional compared to my other fighters after all.”

Red shrugged and dropped his arms. Perhaps he should have held back just a little.

“Also, I think we should make this interesting! Give a real challenge for our crime lord here – bring out the next two!”

Red turned to the door with a look of mild curiosity.

Internally he was now doubting his odds.

Two men were pulled out. Each had almost a foot on his own height. They also did not look to be particularly starved.

It seemed he was being presented with the events champions.

Reynolds climbed out of the ring as the chains were taken off his new opponents. Red found himself in the centre as they slowly circled around him.

“First to kill him goes free – begin!”

Red didn’t have time to curse at the announcement and ducked as a fist flew straight at his head.

A sharp blow hit his ribs and he smashed an elbow into the man’s ear.

Two kicks to his leg, a punch to the stomach, his chains pulled around a neck and the man gurgled but a strike to his spine loosened his hold.

Blood gushed from his nose as the one in front cracked his head backwards. He gave a few sharp jabs in return but a blow came from above and he crashed down.

Feet stomped on his chest. He brought his knees up.

A hand reached for his neck and he bit down into the flesh, spitting the blood into the other’s face.

He caught an arm between his chains and twisted until he heard a snap.

A crack in his ribs came as response.

The pain was dulling his mind. The sensations of the room were a blur. The noises a low hum in his ears.

His thoughts brought forward Lizzie. Running for him. Running to him.

He was glad she was not here. This wasn’t how he wanted to her to remember him. She would be safe. Protocols would make it so. She would have all she needed.

His death was inconsequential. It was always going to be.

Two loud bangs. Two thuds. The ongoing slaughter ceased.

Red opened his eyes. Blinking through the blood trickling down. Blinking to see his hallucination of Lizzie blur into focus.

Except it wasn’t a hallucination.

Gun drawn, eyes blazing with fury, she effortlessly leapt into the ring with one hand and narrowed her aim straight onto Reynolds. A terrifyingly beautiful angel of vengeance.

“You. Do Not. Touch Him.”

The words cut through the room. A cold dead tone that sent a chill through the crowd. It was a voice you did not want to answer. Whose attention you did not want to draw.

Reynolds smirked, “Too late.”

Blood splattered the wall behind. A hole in the centre of his head. The smirk frozen on his face as his body fell forward onto the wall of the ring. Dangling.

An automatic rifle clicked in warning. It was only then that Red noticed khaki pants placed behind Lizzie with his weapon aimed at the one guard who had twitched for his own gun.

Lizzie’s arms had not dropped from where Reynold’s had been standing.

Red forced himself to sit up, pushing down the cries of pain his throat wished to release.

With effort he managed to speak in an even tone, “I think it would be best if everyone left.”

The words broke the spell of fear that had engulfed the guests and they scrambled for the exits. Delayed screams of panic and curses. The remaining guards glanced at the body of their employer, then to the woman with her gun still on the body as if she had the power to resurrect and kill him again.

They followed the last of the guests up the stairs.

Red kept his eyes on Lizzie.

In his provisional he noted the mercenary go to Dembe.

She had still yet to move.

He focused on her hands. They were shaking.

“Lizzie.”

“He was going to kill you.”

The words were no more than a whisper. As if she were talking to herself. Not realising they were being spoken aloud.

Red pushed himself to his feet, gripping a hand to his ribs. He did not take his eyes off her, “Lizzie, everything is alright now.”

Her shaking grip tightened on the gun.

“The death penalty.”

Red paused.

She finally turned her head to him. Tears were dripping down her face.

“I couldn’t lose you.”

Her voice was terrified. Terrified because she clearly didn’t know why. Terrified because she couldn’t think of an answer.

“I couldn’t – I can’t – I don’t know why I shot – and they were - he couldn’t…”

Red lurched forward and pulled her into his arms as her gun fell to the floor. Her cries morphed into screams and her fingers gripped into his shirt. Tears rolled down his shoulder as she buried her head into his neck. Her whole body shook. She didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know what she’d become. She didn’t know why she had killed.

Red closed his eyes. Running a hand over her hair. Whispering assurances into her ear. The pain in his body gave way to the pain of her suffering.

“It’s okay,” He soothed, placing a kiss to the side of her head, “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I’m here. You’re safe.”

The screams faded. He felt her push further into his neck. Slow deep breaths tickling his skin. He stayed still. Holding her in his arms as she dragged herself back from the torment that had been hiding in her for two months.

Slowly, she drew back and looked at him. Her blue eyes locked onto his. He dared not breath. Dared not look away.

The tension broke as she gasped and placed a hand on his bloodied face, “Red! Oh my gosh! We need to get you to a hospital!”

Like that, the pain of his injuries rushed back and he stumbled, grabbing onto her as she caught his weight and pulled his arm over her shoulder.

“A hospital Lizzie, really.”

“You know what I mean,” She snapped, the caring anger he knew so well returning with ease, “We need to get you looked at.”

The redness in her eyes and wetness on her cheeks were the only evidence of the outburst that had just occurred. The opportunity to focus on the practical of his injuries allowing her to push past the moment, leaving it’s meaning to be contemplated some other time. There was a tension in her jaw that spoke of an internal struggle to understand the emotions that were still running through her.

Red was not going to deny her the need to redirect.

Dembe stepped over and took his friend’s weight on the other side.

Red gave him a soft smile. The bloodied skin around his wrists showed his friend’s feelings towards watching the assault.

“Yes, well I believe Miss Pierce will require similar assistance. It would be a shame to have gone through all this effort for nothing. Tommy if you could?”

Liz did a double take as the mercenary, still wearing his suit jacket, shrugged and went off to fetch the girl, “His name is Tommy?”

“Yes. He always felt Thomas sounded too formal.” He raised an eyebrow to Liz, “I hear you have a boat we could use.”

Her gaze wandered to his injuries but she quickly snapped back, “Yes – sorry about that.”

“No need, it will get us to my plane nice and quickly. I will have a doctor meet us there.”

Liz bit her lip, “Maybe you should get them to meet us at the boat somewhere.”

Red scanned her face, “Lizzie?”

“Yes?”

He clicked his tongue, “Where’s my plane?”

An expression of sweet innocence looked to him, “On route to Mr Kaplan with thirty passengers ready to return home?”

Dembe cleared his throat which definitely did not cover a laugh.

Red sighed, “The boat it is then.”

* * * *

It had not taken long to find a doctor willing to assist suspicious injuries for a large sum of money. In the Cayman Islands, it would be harder to find someone adverse to such a request. Red had still told Dembe to dispose of any bodies remaining on board but Lizzie had piped up once more.

“Oh, I sent them too.”

“Sent them?”

“To Mr Kaplan – on the plane, like mail order clean-up. She did offer and I told her to just charge you extra. I literally have no idea what the rate of body disposal is.”

“I see – well then Dembe, I suppose you can fetch the doctor immediately.”

Nothing about this evening had been as he had predicted.

He grimaced as a needle tore through his scalp. Fortunately, many of his injuries had been superficial however one blow to the head had left quite a deep gash.

“Almost done,” The doctor muttered. She was young, probably only in her early years as an intern but already it was clear that she would go far. He would have to add her name to his medical list.

“Thanks,” Lizzie replied. She was sitting on the counter in front of him, hovering since the doctor had begun patching him up but keeping a small distance.

The events had unlocked something in her. What that was he did not know, or at least he could only suspect. Yet what he did know was that she herself definitely had no understanding of where the manic emotions of her actions came from. Hence her need to act as if everything was normal.

“How is our guest?” Red asked.

There was a slight release of tension in her shoulders at the work-related question, “Good yes, the painkillers Dr Atkins gave her seemed to have kicked in. Although I don’t think she’s settled enough to sleep on a boat of strangers yet so I found her a book. You’re sure she’s got the information we need?”

“Relatively so,” He placed a hand on the doctor’s wrist when she went to remove his shirt, “Perhaps if she does not wish to rest you could make the inquiry of her now. Remind her that the sooner she helps us, the sooner we can take her home.”

Lizzie bit her lip. Not making a move to leave the room.

“I just need to know the location she would send the supply of oil that she was payed to keep off the books.”

She nodded.

“If you could apply some more ointment to the scars on her wrists and ankles while you speak to her it would be helpful,” Dr Atkins added, having withdrawn from his back and busied herself wiping dried blood from his neck instead, “They’ll be causing discomfort again by now.”

This did prompt her to slide off the counter, “Of course, no problem.” She offered him a soft smile, “Shout if you need me.”

Once Lizzie had left, the doctor went back to removing his shirt.

He definitely needed to get an investment placed in her training.

A true professional, she made no comment to the scars on his back as she tended to his ribs, and no comment to his clear intent to remove Lizzie from the room for the examination.

Yet she could not resist speaking one thought, “She’s very protective of you.”

Red hummed in acknowledgment but did not reply.

It was a statement that held more truth than he had ever quite let himself believe.

He had only glimpsed it once before.

On his knees, taking a final breath, then the ring of a shot that took his would-be assassin instead.

_“I care about you.”_

_“Never do that again.”_

It had been her duty. She had a fierce loyalty to those in her care and he was her informant. It was because she was just too good a person.

How could he have believed her words were simply so.

Yet the instant kills of the men beating him. The cold enraged tone of the underworld. The unflinching pull of the trigger when the one who had passed the sentence dared take jest.

It was to see his own raw fury.

To see what she must see when people dared hurt her.

It was a core emotion he knew in himself, that was an essence of who he was. To see it reflected in her, to have it drawn out because someone had thought to hurt _him_.

The feeling it triggered was too much to attempt to fully contemplate.

Let alone those shaken words implying a threat against him had a hand in her shooting of Connelly.

Elizabeth Keen was someone that he in no manner deserved to hold the loyalty or care of.

Yet here she stood, asking who was he to say what he did or did not deserve.

Red buttoned his shirt and stepped out into the deck’s lounge.

Lizzie was sitting on the floor by the couch Miss Pierce lay on, one hand gently placed in the woman’s freshly bandaged own. It seemed their guest had been convinced of her safety enough to fall asleep.

Lizzie opened her eyes and lifted her head as she heard him approach, “Hey,” Her voice was tinged with sleep, “I got a location. It’s not an exact address. Co-ordinates and then route instructions.”

“Later,” He gently shushed, running a hand over her hair. He sat on the adjacent couch and she shifted to lean her head on his leg, “You should go and get some sleep.”

“I promised I’d stay with her,” She mumbled, her eyes drooping shut.

He leant down and placed a kiss on her temple, “Then I will stay with you.”

A soft sigh left her lips and her free arm snaked around the bottom of his leg.

Red continued to lightly stroke her hair.

It was not yet the time to speak of what had transpired. It may not be for a while. Her actions had been born out of instinct not thought. Yet what he had been shown, whilst it scared him, also warmed a void in his heart he had long thought dead.

Hope, what an interesting concept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to explore Liz being faced with a situation where her instinctive need to protect Red is forced out, but at a time where she hasn't begun to work out where that instinct comes from. It's interesting because I always thought her and Red have very similar base emotions when it comes to one another. Yet his has been with him for so long it's built in whereas with Liz we're seeing it grow. I think a lot of people noted in the actual show that the gun came up on Connelly when Red was the last person threatened in the little speech. On the run I think the confusion over her actions would have been festering. 
> 
> Anyway, that was just my random thought, hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door to some truths becomes slightly agar.

Aram had been staring at the video for the last twenty-six minutes.

The day had begun in its usual twilight zone manner since Agent Keen had been declared a deep cover Russian spy and killed the Attorney General.

Wake up from three hours of sleep. Come into work and pretend to believe that Agent Ressler had arrived very early because he definitely hadn’t seen the rumpled cot in his office. Analyse the new potential sightings Agent Navabi silently put on his desk.

Nervously twitch at the unspoken tension whenever newly reinstated Director Cooper addressed the team. Because they weren’t going to talk about the shooting. Nobody needed to bring up the shooting. He’d been right there, why did he let her do it, why had she run, did he know what she was going to do? He didn’t need to ask. They’d got the memo stating there had been no evidence to hold Director Cooper accountable as an accessory.

Water under the bridge.

Aram was just here to do his job and track down his former friend to put her in prison for crimes that seemed to magically pile up.

Which now included a very real one that only he knew about and he had been watching on a loop.

It had arrived to one of his secure personal email accounts. The one he used for the slightly less than fully legal hacker communities. An old contact he used to tag team with on fine-tuning coding software that allowed him to add his own updates to his systems. Updates that many Blacklisters would have not been caught without.

He didn’t know much about the guy. Enough to verify he wasn’t an extremely bad criminal just, a casual one. Hadn’t even met him in person.

So, it had been strange to see an email from him with the subject: ‘Won’t share – she yours?’

The content had just been a small video file.

He’d glanced around the room to check nobody was looking. Which they weren’t, people didn’t really look at each other at the site anymore unless they were directly speaking.

Then he’d clicked it and immediately closed it again.

Before taking a breath, another glance and then proceeding to watch it multiple times.

It was shaky camera footage. There were lots of people in the way but through the crowd it looked like three men fighting. Then two shots had sounded and the video went dark as the camera was angled to the floor. There was a muffled voice and then the camera came up just in time to show a man get shot in the head.

By Agent Keen.

A man getting shot in the head by Agent Keen.

Agent Keen standing over a bloodied Mr Reddington with two more bodies lying dead next to him.

Then the video cut out.

Aram had no idea what he should do.

Well, he did know what he _should_ do. He should show the video to Agent Ressler. They would track down his guy who sent it. Find out where it had happened and go and catch them.

So why wasn’t he doing that?

He knew Agent Keen. She wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. She did things for a reason and those reasons had morals and desires to protect the innocent.

This video did not show that side of her.

This video made her look exactly how the government and media wanted her to look.

He could picture a blurred version of it playing on all the news sites. Creating a monster for the public to spit and rave at.

He didn’t fully understand what was going on. What the true story was about everything that had transpired recently but, in his heart, he knew Elizabeth Keen wasn’t a monster.

“We’ve got something!” Agent Ressler shouted, slamming down the phone.

Aram quickly minimised the video.

“What is it?” Director Cooper strode over and stood next to Agent Navabi, who had come over from her desk.

“Local police in the Cayman Islands called us after getting a direct eyewitness stating Raymond Reddington had been at a residence there last night.”

Navabi frowned, “That sounds like one of the false leads. What’s this witness’ story?”

“He was found wandering around a mansion belonging to a Sebastian Reynolds,” Ressler was typing onto the computer, pulling up images onto the main screens sent by the police, “They think he’d been some kind of prisoner; he hasn’t really said much. It seemed he’d just been walking around the grounds all night. They took him back into the property and found two other men who showed signs of being captives, there was a whole room with chains and cages there. They seem to think there was some kind of underground human fighting pits going on. Plus, they also found Reynolds body.”

A corporate head shot of Sebastian Reynolds appeared on the middle screen.

Aram took a sharp intake of breath that caused him to burst into a cough.

None of the team noticed.

Ressler straightened up, eyes wide and jaw set, “When they asked the man what had happened, he said one thing. Raymond Reddington.”

Director Cooper paused, looking up to the image of the now deceased man, “Do they think he’s still there?”

“They’re pretty sure Reynolds had a yacht that’s missing. They’re looking into it and will get a track on it.”

“And they think Keen’s with him?” Navabi asked, her voice scratched of any emotion.

Ressler was the opposite, his face showed all the tangled emotions of betrayal, anger, fear and care whenever he spoke about Agent Keen, “I’d say that’s a given.”

Cooper ran a hand over his mouth and nodded his head. He was somewhere in between. It was much harder to tell what his actual opinions about the whole Agent Keen situation really were.

“You and Agent Navabi fly over there and see what you can find. They’ll most likely be gone by now but see if you can pick up any kind of trail. Agent Mojtabai…”

Aram jumped, “Yes – what. Sorry?”

The Director took his behaviour as normal, “Find everything you can on this Sebastian Reynolds.”

“Will do,” He gave a nervous smile as they all rushed away. Ressler and Navabi grabbing their go-bags and Cooper heading back up to his office.

When they were out of sight, he opened up the video again. Paused on who he now knew to be Sebastian Reynolds getting shot.

A man who held people prisoner and forced them to fight each other.

A Blacklister.

Liz had been pushed to the other side of the law but she was still doing their work.

He was sure of it.

Aram deleted the video and scrubbed his inbox clean.

* * * *

Tom Cruise was shouting in French.

It was funny, despite fully understanding how time zones worked, Liz hadn’t really factored in that fleeing between countries led to a lot of jetlag.

Right now, she had no idea what time her body thought it should be. All that mattered was she was spread out on a very comfortable couch watching a badly dubbed Mission Impossible.

She bet Ethan Hunt suffered some crazy jetlag.

“Do you think spies have a kind of special pill to trick their body clocks?”

A chuckle came from the other room.

Liz buried her face further into the cushion she was hugging. She bet Red had some kind of secret pill, because how else was he pottering around the kitchen like a fully rested human.

“I did tell you to force yourself to stay awake for longer last night,” He called back. She could picture the smirk on his face, “Then you wouldn’t currently be in this state.”

She hoped he could picture the gesture she aimed at the doorway.

It was like her body didn’t know if it wanted to be asleep or awake.

“Would you like a drink?”

Her answer was a desperate mumble, “Coffee.”

The hiss of a machine and some more clinks responded.

It was all very domestic. Not how one would picture two murderers going about their morning.

Although maybe mass murderer was more apt now.

Just under three months and she had killed four people in cold blood.

It was the latest ones which were actually a major factor in why she hadn’t gotten any proper sleep the past few days. More so than the jetlag. She kept replaying the shots in her head, thinking about what she had done, because she definitely hadn’t given it a thought in the moment. It had been instinctual, like her body had been triggered by some pre-programming that she didn’t realise was there.

Those two men had been prisoners. They hadn’t chosen to be there. What right had she had to take their lives? Yet, when she’d seen Red bleeding out and barely conscious under their fists something in her had screamed that she had every right.

With Reynolds there was less of a moral guilt, but the fury that had engulfed her with that bullet unsettled her.

It was a blind fear and rage that she had wanted to forget she had felt before.

Listening to Connelly, a hatred boiling within her as he threatened all the people she cared about, she’d been desperately imagining how she could just kill him, stop him talking.

Yet, it had only been when he had threatened getting Red the death penalty that her gun was suddenly pointed at his chest.

And she didn’t understand it.

She didn’t want him to die, she didn’t want any of her friends to die or be hurt on her behalf, but why was it the specific image of Red no longer being in the world that shot fear down to her core?

That level of devotion scared her and she didn’t know when it had apparently grown.

She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to analyse it. She just wanted everything to continue as normal. Nothing to change.

Just be two people fleeing from a multi government criminal organisation.

Simple. No confusing emotions complicating things.

No mysterious backstories that anyone had yet to bring up.

It wasn’t unhealthy for her nightmares of shooting people to merge into her father falling to the ground each night.

She didn’t need to know how her and Red’s history was connected.

Except, she did.

But she was scared what the answer might be.

And mostly scared of what it would mean between them when he refused to answer.

Liz stopped suffocating her face into the cushion, trying to drown out her spiralling thoughts, and opened her eyes as padded footsteps drew near.

Red walked into the lounge, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The first time she had she’d the sight over a month ago she had actually spat out her tea. Like, she did an actual spit-take. The sight of Reddington in casual wear just hadn’t quite computed.

Now she was used to it and she found it was nice to see him beyond the sharp suited persona. It somehow made him more real.

Real and normal.

A large cup of coffee was placed on the table before her.

“Sweet nectar,” She moaned, pulling herself up into a crossed-leg huddle so she could cradle the drink. Deeply inhaling the smell before taking a sip.

Red raised an eyebrow and settled next to her. His own breakfast being a sensible fruit salad accompanied by a fresh pastry.

“You are going to completely crash later.”

“Caffeine is for blocking fatigue, not for thinking about how bad you’re going to feel afterwards. First thing you learn at the academy.”

He shook his head, “To think, our country’s security must be practically run by Starbucks.”

Liz snorted and sunk back into the couch, “They could probably get tax deductions.”

“I doubt the CEO would have such initiative. They are one of the few corporations to not simply exploit the tax system for profit.”

The glare practically stabbed him.

“You do pay taxes right?”

“Lizzie.” He turned to her and took a bite of his pastry, “Really.”

She hit his arm, “You use as much public property as any normal person!”

“Perhaps,” He shrugged, “But I also directly fund a vast amount of infrastructure and environmental properties across the states.”

“A convenient excuse,” She narrowed her eyes, “I bet Dembe pays tax.”

He sighed, looking to the ceiling as it were a Greek tragedy, “It is indeed the one flaw I could not rid him of.”

“That’s because he understands the importance of shared wealth,” She snatched the pastry out of his hand and took her own bite, “Capitalism – it’s the downfall of society.”

Red tilted his head, “How very Soviet of you.”

She winked, grinning as a laugh chimed from his mouth. The whole Russian spy gambit had been so overplayed now in the Western news that it had become amusing. It was all performance anyway. The American government knew she hadn’t been an international operative and Russia were fully aware none of their agents had ever recruited her. The media loved it though, and it kept a degree of attention from the information that was ongoingly being discussed since the Fulcrums release.

“When will Dembe be back anyway,” She asked, “It’s no fun having nobody to share looks of exasperation with behind your back.”

Red held out his hand and she returned the pastry, “I cannot be certain, we left quite a mess in the Caymans and I firmly believe Donald would have arrived at maximum a day after we departed.” He finished the treat and reached out for a sip of her coffee to wash it down, “Dembe is assuring our trail has disappeared once more - he will know when it is safe to return.”

Escaping the Cayman’s had made for a good distraction.

Their journey off the island had been more inventive than previous ones so far. The yacht to a helicopter pad on an oil cruiser. Dropped off in Jamaica where they generously convinced a pilot to let them tag along to Colombia as he went to collect his employer. Then a poker game, a drinking competition, performing a marriage ceremony and they got a flight into Europe sitting amongst an astounding amount of cocaine.

“So, what now?” Liz swivelled to fully face him, resting her arm over the back of the couch, “We go to this location Pierce gave us? What’s there anyway - all you said was we were looking for where a cleaner keeps his mementos.”

He wiped a few crumbs off his pantleg and shifted to face her as well, “Yes, I did not tell you beforehand in-case the Pierce lead did not pan out. This _particular_ cleaner, I have been aware for sometime is on roster for a prominent member of the Cabal. It is likely she has used him for various purposes already. A poor choice. Prescott may be very skilled, but he knows the worth of holding evidence on his more powerful clients.”

Liz frowned, “Who is this prominent member?”

“Laurel Hitchin – the National Security Advisor.”

The powers this organisation held in the government was hard to comprehend.

“Okay,” She ran a hand through her hair, “Do we know this Prescott has incriminating evidence of any crimes on her?”

Red pursed his lips, “Unfortunately no. Although I know he has covered up many activities on her behalf I do not have a way of knowing in which cases, if any, he decided to retain evidence.”

“Then the point of finding out where he keeps his creepy den?”

“I now have people keeping an eye on the location. If opportunity presents to breach unnoticed, they will gather whether evidence is already being held. Nonetheless, whenever Hitchin’s next uses his services, my people will know – and the pressure that is on her right now having you loose in the world, there _will_ be messes that she needs cleaning up.”

Liz let her head fall against the back of the couch, “I’m finally beginning to understand how it’s taken you twenty-five years to get to this point.”

“The dismantling of criminal organisations is often complex,” He shrugged, “Ones run by governments are near impossible.”

Liz bit her lip, trying to hold back the laugh bubbling inside, it was so stupid but she couldn’t help it.

The noise burst out and she spluttered, “Mission Impossible: The Cabal Chaos!”

Red sighed and pushed her away as she collapsed into sleep-deprived hysterics, madly pointing at the television.

He collected the dishes and stood up, “With a spare moment before our next move, I am going to take the opportunity for a meander around the sights of Lille. If you feel you can compose yourself enough to walk up the stairs and put on some clothes, I would be happy for the company.”

Liz pushed the cushion over her face to muffle her laughter.

Red looked down at her and shook his head, a soft fondness around the edge of his eyes, “Agent Keen, dangerous fugitive.”

He dodged the spare cushion that flew towards him.

Stepping right into the path of the second.

Liz was still chuckling as she took the cups from his hand and stepped past. Her voice calling out as she disappeared from the room, “Hurry up, I’m leaving in fifteen.”

There was nothing she could do about the nightmares.

There was something she could try and do about the information gaps.

But when it was just like this, an easy camaraderie between two friends as they tried to fight for a bit of justice in the world, everything else didn’t matter.

* * * *

“Okay, how do you do that?” Liz took a seat on the steps of the gorgeous rustic opera house, standing on the edge of the town square, “There is no way all this history is just in your head for every single location in the world.”

Red’s meandering had turned into a tour of the city. They had wandered through the cobbled streets of Old Lille to the more modern region, seeing where the original stone gates of the city still stood. As they walked, he had told her the stories of how the Romans once used it as a trade route and the many attacks the city had fended off over the centuries. In the colourful Parc de la Citadelle, he had shown her the pentagon military base built in the 17th century, which was so successful it remained an active base to this day. Throughout he didn’t once look up information or enquire on the knowledge of locals.

Red adjusted his fedora and looked up, “The original opera house actually burnt in 1903 – this one was completed ten years later. However just before it opened, Germany took occupation of the city and although 100 shows performed during those years it wasn’t until 1923 that it’s first French work premiered.”

“You know, you’re not as cute as you think you’re being,” Liz huffed, but she still bent her head back to examine the building as she took in the history.

He leant down so his lips hovered by her ear, “That is because I am not being cute – I am being suave.”

Liz turned to look at him, that playful grin only inches from her face.

The delight he found in the world was never hidden. It always shone and swept up those around him to experience the joy that he did. Swept her up.

Life was something in which she had once found beauty and fascination, that had disappeared for a while, but Red had offered her his arm and gently guided her to where she had once been.

It was a gift he didn’t realise he had given.

She teased but in truth, she could listen to him share the world with her for as long as he was willing.

Her gaze flicked to his mouth, then she rolled her eyes and tapped his nose, “You spend your nights doing wiki research don’t you?”

Red licked his lips and straightened back up, holding out a hand, “I was simply very good at history in school – top of my class.”

“It is so hard to picture you as a schoolkid,” Liz grinned, placing her hand in his and letting it be tucked under his arm, “Did you run some kind of homework black market? Smuggle in unhealthy treats?”

“There may have been a small cliental for forged doctor’s notes and permission slips.”

She smiled and shook her head, “For goodness sake you went into the navy.”

“Yes, well I must admit it was more my love of sailing that inspired that decision. Have I ever told you about my old childhood neighbour Mr Jenkins?”

Liz knew he wasn’t looking for a reply, so she simply settled a bit further into his side.

Red melted into his narrative tone, “He was a reclusive gentleman. Lived in a run-down house at the end of the street, the type that led to the local children passing the label of the crazy old man who would lure you in and eat you if you ventured too near his fence. I was only seven myself and the stories all seemed very real and frightening. I would always cross the street so to never directly pass by his house.”

He threw some coins down as they passed an old woman begging.

“One day, the weather was awful – a storm of pelting rain and roaring winds. I was sprinting home through it all and forgot to cross the street so ran straight past Mr Jenkins house. When I reached my door, I realised I had forgotten my key, and my father was not due home for a few hours. I was standing there, shivering and near tears when a gruff voice called from behind me. I turned and almost cried out – for it was Mr Jenkins, he must have seen me speed by.”

They paused as a large tourist group passed.

“Mostly because I was too scared to refuse. I let him lead me back to his house. He clearly had an awareness of what people thought of him so he didn’t invite me inside but instead showed me into his garage which he opened up to look onto the street. There, taking up most of the room, was a beautiful wooden boat. He was a carpenter before his age had meant he could no longer work at a speed quick enough for commercial business. So, he now built for himself. He told me it had always been his dream to create a boat, so he could learn to sail and take to the sea to explore. That afternoon I watched him work on that boat. And I returned almost every afternoon after.”

He sighed and looked up to the sculptures sitting on the roof of the building across from them.

“Five months later, I went over one afternoon but there was nobody there. I went back each day for a week but I never saw him. On the eighth day, when I arrived there was a man in a suit putting up a poster on his front door. He saw me and asked who I was, I gave him my name and a look of pity came over his face. ‘_I’m a lawyer who’s been put to Mr Jenkins case_.’ He said. ‘_I’m afraid he passed away the other week, but I found a note with your name on it – he wanted you to have his boat_.’”

Red shrugged.

“I never found out if it was a natural death or self-inflicted – and my father wouldn’t let me keep the boat. But it was the fact Mr Jenkins had left it to me, that he wanted me to have it. That sparked the desire to try to do what he had not gotten to, to learn to sail and explore the world on the ocean.”

Liz heard herself release a quiet pained sigh.

She had heard many little anecdotes and stories of his life over the years, but none that were so real. That revealed a slice of insight and truth into how he had become the man he was.

Red cleared his throat and looked to her with his usual care-free smile, “The enforced discipline of the navy was not for me however, and I was quick to move on from the lower ranks to more suitable roles.”

It was the sudden openness, his sudden telling of a history she had not asked for that pushed her to voice the question.

It came before she could change her mind.

She gently pulled on his arm and brought them to a stop, “Like what?”

He froze for a second, then he blinked and turned his head to meet her gaze.

All this time she had chosen not to broach the topic of her past out of fear of what he might say. But if he could find it in himself to tell her a story of an old man who kindled his path to the navy, then she could find it in herself to ask him of the people who shaped _her_ path to being a fugitive.

She lifted her chin, “Like a role that somehow meant you knew a Russian agent?”

Red just stared at her.

She hadn’t wanted to ask because she knew he would most likely outright refuse to tell her anything as was his common approach. The tension of anger and distrust that could fester between them in those periods when she knew he was holding back information that she had the right to know was always so strong.

It had just been nice to pretend that there wasn’t the potential for it to start all over again.

Red clicked his tongue and she prepared herself for the breaking of their peaceful arrangement.

“It was due to my work that your mother contacted me,” His voice was low and stern, “It was not a direct correlation.”

Liz’s eyes widened; she had not expected him to actually answer her question.

It was even less believable when he continued to talk.

“I was in an ongoing undercover assignment that involved me cultivating relationships with a range of informants as an enemy of the state working within the military. It was my life. It had to be my life.” He paused, clearly fighting over whether to say the next part, “It was to the extent that I was provided a cover family with a fellow operative to layer the believability of my persona.”

Liz took a sharp breath. Naomi Hyland had been an agent.

“Your mother knew my true identity and wished me to help her flee to America to provide a better life for her unborn child.”

He looked away, “Complications occurred during the effort.”

Silence spread between them. It was clearly all he was going to say at the moment.

It was more than she had ever thought she would hear willingly given.

Liz swallowed and placed a hand on his shoulder, she then slid it down to slip her fingers into his own. She felt him tense, waiting for an onslaught of questions which this time he would likely refuse to answer.

There were more questions. Now that he had given her just a piece of the story of that time in her childhood it sparked the need for more answers.

What did her father have to do with it? Who had he been? Why had she shot him?

Yet, in this moment, having been offered an insight into his childhood and having received a brief look into her own. It was enough for today.

Because more importantly, she had been given evidence that something had changed within him, that a greater level of truth may now exist between them.

It made her believe, that at a future point, if she asked for more answers – he would most likely give them.

So, she tugged him forward and continued their stroll over the town square, letting the moment fall to the past, “You know what I think must have been the worst part of the navy for you – the bland canteen meals. Raymond Reddington eating basic nutrition, it just goes against nature.”

When there was no immediate response she glanced back.

The expression she saw caused her to stumble on her next step.

She coughed and quickly turned forward again.

Then the hand she had still been holding slipped away, instead taking place around her waist and Red was next to her again with a casual smile. No sign that they had just had a momentary lapse into their shared tragic past.

No sign of the piercing adoration and something more she swore she had seen in his gaze.

“True – yet perhaps the experience is what led to the high regard that I now hold cuisine. Speaking of which, you must simply try the mussels here.”

Liz leant into his side as she was led to a beautifully designed antique restaurant opposite the opera house. It was refreshing to be accompanied by someone who had mastered slipping seamlessly between tones of conversation.

“It’s strange that you think that getting me to continually try more mussels will somehow magically make me taste the difference between where they came from.”

“I never concede defeat when it comes to refining one’s palette.”

Red opened the door and gestured her inside. A waiter stepped forward to greet them, “Bonsoir, madame et monsieur – une table pour deux?”

Liz smiled, “Oui merci, par la fenêtre s’il vous plaît.”

“Bien sûr.” He led them to a table tucked away in the corner overlooking the square.

Red placed his fedora on a hat stand and pulled out her chair before the waiter could.

“I would claim boasting language skills is on par with highlighting historical knowledge,” He whispered as she sat down.

She gave him a sweet smile then turned to the waiter, “Mon ami n'aime pas Français nourriture, j'essaie de le convaincre qu'il a tort.”

The young man threw Red as scornful a look as he could in his professional capacity. He picked up the menu he had put in front of his seat and handed both to Liz instead.

“Bonne chance.” He bowed his head slightly to her before retreating to another table.

Red raised an eyebrow, “I would prefer you refrained from sullying my reputation in one of the food capitals of the world.”

“I’m sure your ego can handle one waiter thinking you don’t like French food.”

He gave a small smile but his eyes lingered over to where the waiter had gone in a way that showed it did bother him a little.

Liz bit back a laugh and handed him one of the menus.

She did, however, order the mussels as recompense.

They still tasted exactly the same as all the others she’d had.

Red was quieter than usual as they ate. Listening with a soft smile and gentle chuckles to her stories of college or her profiles of people passing by the restaurant.

Once they had finished dessert, the evening dusk creating a dim ambience, they both simply sat with a glass of wine each and watched the outside world in a comfortable silence.

Liz felt a light weight push on her chest as she spent a while watching a woman chase her daughter up and down the opera steps. The little girl was probably only around five years old. She had a blue sparkly backpack on and her shoes lit up with each step.

She glanced to Red, to make a comment to take her thoughts anyway from the child but paused when she saw his face.

He was also watching the mother and child. Yet there was a vacantness to his gaze that suggested that those particular people weren’t who he was really looking at.

Liz put down her glass.

Earlier, he had implied the family she had known of his, Naomi Highland and her daughter, had been a cover given to the both of them.

When she had seen the two together, she had sensed the deep fondness and protective quality they shared for one another. Yet even then, she had been a little surprised.

From what she had seen of Red. How much of himself he threw into everything he did, everything he cared for, everyone he cared for.

To her, that was a man who when he loved, it consumed him.

Naomi Hyland had not been that for him.

A bike passed by the window and its light briefly shone on his face. Enough for her to glimpse the wetness in his eyes.

She reached her hand half way across the table, only daring to whisper her suspicion, “You had a real family as well, didn’t you?”

The line of his jaw jumped slightly, and after a moment, he gave a small nod.

The child outside was now being spun around in her mother’s arms.

She already knew the answer but she had to ask.

“What happened to them?”

A tear finally rolled down his cheek and he broke his gaze from the window to look at her.

The grief. Her own heart broke in that moment.

He didn’t reply. He just took her hand and raised it to his mouth. Pressing a light kiss on top, then on her wrist, before simply holding the palm to his lips and keeping it there.

Liz reached forward with her other hand and wiped her thumb gently across his cheek. Catching the tear that had fallen.

It was hard sometimes, in everything that had happened in her life, in everything that this man had seemed to have caused. It was hard to remember that a person who gets to a point, where the only reason a government allowed you to live, was because you had fought every day to maintain a lie that you held damning evidence on them. A person like that must have suffered greatly.

Yet, he never spoke of it.

It had become so far pushed down that it only existed to torment.

Here they were, both with lives defined by suffering.

There was nothing she could say to ease the pain of the death of his family.

So, she just sat there. Her hand cradled against his face like she was the one thing anchoring him to the world.

And in that moment, one element amongst her confusion of emotions regarding him clicked into place.

Because she realised, that often, that’s exactly how she felt when she looked at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think part of what I wanted to do in this story is show the importance of Red becoming aware of Liz not being someone he has to withhold or keep secrets from in order to protect her. If two people are going to have a meaningful relationship there has to be a partnership, not one thinking they know what's best and making decisions based on that belief. This is just a beginning of that - readjusting that mindset wouldn't be a simple thing when it's been his way for so long. 
> 
> Also Aram is such a sweetheart, he has always been my favourite of the taskforce.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More steps are taken; in two kinds of way.

Night had laid full claim to the town square.

Chimes of laughter swept between the crowds enjoying the cool breeze outside the bars and restaurants. Candles blended with the intimate tone created by the moon and stars in the undisturbed night sky.

In the centre of it all, stood a grand stone building with open archways on all four sides; encaptivating, lively music bursting from each. The stone walls were a deep burgundy lined with rich gold; tall glass windows encasing the entirety. It’s music lightly caressed the whole square, drawing the attention of each person emerging from the surrounding alleyways. Couples in all forms of dress, top end suits to commercial retail shorts and shirts, chattered merrily as they strolled in and out.

It was so cliché fairy tale European.

Liz couldn’t contain her grin.

“Each Sunday night, the locals gather under the stars in the open courtyard of the 17th century Old Stock Exchange,” Red arrived by her side, hands linked behind his back as he looked up to examine the building, “They come to bask in the delight of the tango - all welcome to join or simply spectate.”

They had remained in the restaurant for another couple of hours. Giving time to resettle the atmosphere to one where grief no longer overwhelmed but merely existed as a familiar presence.

Liz had also made the effort to draw out his laugh again by convincing the waiter that Red had actually been a Michelin star judge all along. Leading to no charge, a picture with the chef and Red delivering a stirring speech to the entire waiting staff.

She had truly been worried they were all going to quit and follow him to his own non-existent restaurant.

“European’s really enjoy flaunting the fact they have premium culture,” Liz looked to him with a shrug, “They’re right though, so it’s kind of hard to be annoyed.”

“I am sure the people would be honoured by such high praise.”

She smirked and nudged him in the side, “This definitely helps understand why you’re over here so much though – fine dining followed by classical dance. You were born in the wrong country.”

Red released a wistful sigh, “I am aware.”

“I can’t picture you with a French accent though.”

“Your mind has greater limitations than I assumed; you have heard me speak the language.”

“No, I mean an English-French accent,” She waved her hand, “You know that accent when a French person speaks in English.”

“Indeed, one in which I would convey with elegance if I had been native.”

Her mouth scrunched up, “I don’t know – I think you’d just come across a bit creepy. Like it just wouldn’t match.”

His tongue pushed against the inside of his mouth and then clicked, “Creepy?”

“Just if you were speaking English.” She raised her hands in defence.

Red took a step forward, tilting his head to look down at her. His tone dropped to a rich baritone, “Then – may I ask, how do you perceive me when I _purely _speak French?”

Liz paused.

Then swung around to face the building again, “Tango wasn’t it? Sounds like they’re having a great time in there.”

She stepped to the edge of the entrance and leant in. An old tile square courtyard lay in the centre on which couples danced with joyous ease. It was lined with an outer section separated by a continuous curve of stone archways.

Her foot took a step forward but a gentle grip on her arm drew her back.

She threw him a look of exasperation, “Okay fine, you sound good when you speak French – who doesn’t?”

“You are very kind,” The corner of his mouth curved upwards, “However, that is not the issue.”

She pointed a finger in his face, “Do not tell me we aren’t going in there.”

“You think me so cruel?” He pulled her aside so they were out of the light of the doorway, “There is however, one admittance I must make first.”

Liz narrowed her eyes then leant against the wall and crossed her arms, “This gathering is what we’ve actually been waiting for all day isn’t it?”

“It is indeed the regular indulgence of a particular individual whenever she is visiting her city apartment.”

“Okay – stop being a tease. Give me the low down, I want to dance.”

Red gave a soft chuckle.

“Very well,” There was a playful tint in his eye, “I would so hate to be labelled a _tease_.”

The words held a tone that set off a warning in her mind.

He stepped into her space until there was only a breath between them. Trapping her against the stone wall. She automatically raised one arm and lay it over his shoulder to play to the illusion that they were simply two people sharing intimate whispers.

She could play his game.

He shot a quick glance to the entrance but it was a weak attempt to create conviction that this conversation required the lover’s pretence.

If they were here to see someone why would it matter when they were spotted?

Liz left her arm where it was.

Let him try his best.

“Marcella Tilli.” His voice rumbled gently next to her cheek, his breath tickling her neck.

She swallowed. Damn him.

“Once one of Rome’s top bankers she has since retired to a private business with less - limitations.”

Liz bit her lip. The inflection on that last word was definitely cheating.

“During her original career she built up a vast collection of ledgers of seemingly inconsequential accounts. Small amounts, transactions that didn’t raise any flags or even gather notice. Once she left, this habit extended to the international stage as well.”

His nose briefly skimmed her ear, “Marcella, whilst boasting strong numeracy skills, has an even greater talent for analysist. What she saw in these accounts were their connections to larger corporations conducting less than honest matters.”

“She blackmails?”

Red clicked his tongue. Her breath hitched.

“No.”

He tilted his head; his eyelashes kissed her skin.

Words, focusing on words.

“Marcella analyses who companies are doing business with and translates the ledgers into open information. From this she can take pieces, steal ideas, worm her way into deals. It is not her desire to make enemies so despite the effort, she does not sell on her ledgers.”

He lowered his head and his lips brushed her shoulder as he spoke, “However, she is not disinclined to discreet exchanges.”

She couldn’t bring her voice above a whisper, “What do we exchange?”

“That,” The touch moved away and she opened her eyes. She didn’t realise they had closed. “Is what we need to discover.”

His face was directly in front of her own.

Liz’s eyes flicked to his lips, then back up.

Had she been going to say something?

Red leant slightly forward; his gaze fixed on her.

His fingers rhythmically crept around her waist.

Her eyes widened.

She froze. The breath caught in her throat.

Then, just as the space between them had almost completely disappeared, the hand on her waist spun her away from the wall and she was at a respectable distance on his arm.

She blinked a few times.

“Now then, you wanted to dance?” Red innocently enquired, gesturing to the entrance.

There was a trace of smugness under his smile when she simply nodded instead of replying.

But she didn’t trust her voice in that second.

He wasn’t going to get anymore satisfaction from her fumbling over her words.

Not that she would, she was fine, completely unaffected.

Definitely no hint of disappointment when he moved away.

She ran a hand through her hair and lifted her chin, “If I stand on your foot, don’t assume it’s an accident.”

He had the audacity to laugh so she dropped his arm and walked straight through to the courtyard.

The melody swirled around her as soon as she entered. A soft orange hue had somehow been created pitching a beautiful contrast between the black sky above. A teenager sporting a metal band t-shirt gave her a grin when she paused by the pillar he was leant against, then went back to pretending to conduct the music.

“I will take the risk.”

The words spread through her as Red twirled her onto the floor. Flawlessly moulding them into the correct hold and catching the tempo straight away.

The teen gave her a thumbs up and she winked back.

“Flirting with another man behind my back, you have immersed yourself into the culture.”

Liz rolled her eyes and looked down at her feet, which definitely didn’t seem to know how to tango, “Not enough to dance apparently.”

“Firstly, head up.” She raised her head and embraced the warmth of the tender smile she received, “Excellent – now it’s very simple, just keep a straight posture, make any movement with confidence and simply allow me to lead.”

“Two out of three come naturally.”

“Good posture does take practice.”

Red spun her out with a raised arm as a young couple having fun learning cut under them.

He drew her back in, closer this time, “To keep you informed, Marcella Tilli is chatting to the handsome gentleman in the east corner.”

They took two sharp steps and she had a view of where he had indicated.

“What? The one talking to the guy in the blue shirt?”

Red gave a huff of disbelief, “The handsome gentleman Lizzie. Please, have taste.”

She flicked to the next woman speaking quietly to a tall man with a well-trimmed beard.

Her voice gained an octave, “Really? You think he’s better looking than the other guy?”

“Scruffy is not a statement, it is a poor habit. As such, it is not to be rewarded however fortunate one’s jawline may be.” Red sighed and swerved them between two couples, “Marcella, you see her?”

“Yes, I got her,” Liz replied. It was hard not to since she was wearing an emerald backless dress that, although sat beautifully with the environment, was unlikely a common outfit of choice for this gathering.

To be fair, when you looked like that, you could hardly be blamed for flaunting.

“So, what now?” Liz murmured, “I assume we don’t just go over and ask for a deal.”

Red threw a quick glance as he spun them again, “Indeed, but no matter, she has just become aware of my presence.”

Liz quickly stretched her neck and saw that Marcella Tilli was now calmly making her way across the floor straight for them.

She turned back and caught his eye, raising an eyebrow, “You’re going to dance and charm her whilst I third wheel off to the side, aren’t you?”

“Jealousy does not become you Lizzie,” He quipped just as Marcella arrived next to them, leaving her to swallow back her retort.

They turned to her at the same time.

“Marcella!” Red stretched out his hands and placed a kiss on both her cheeks. He had fixed the smile that walked the line between predatory and lustful.

The teeth over-share Liz had come to label it.

“Signor Reddington,” The name rolled off her tongue, “I thought I spied a familiar hat.”

“This particular one has actually only just been finished – do you approve?”

Marcella stroked a dark curl behind her ear. Piercing green eyes casting a quick assessment up and down his form. She then turned and switched her gaze to Liz.

“Since we all know your being here is not a coincidence, I thought it best to quicken the matter and come over to request a dance,” Her lip curled up and she tilted her head, “Do you mind?”

Liz actually kind of liked her.

Red briefly looked to her, his smile shifting to the one she knew for a moment, before resettling as he offered his hand to the Italian, “It would be my pleasure.”

Marcella flicked her eyes to him and lightly bit down on her bottom lip as she smiled, “Perfect.”

She grabbed Liz’s hand and pulled her into the middle of the floor with a quick twirl that ended with her pressed close against her body.

The woman’s piercing gaze softened, “Ciao bella – please, call me Ella.”

Strike that, Liz was a bit in love with this woman.

“Lovely to meet you Ella,” She grinned, “I’m Liz.”

“Yes – I believe I’ve seen your picture on the news. It does not do you justice.”

There must be a lot more broken hearts in the world due to this woman.

Liz trailed her fingers down the Italian’s spine to rest on her bare lower back, “Well, I haven’t seen a picture of you before, but I can imagine it would fail to look any less stunning than you are in real life.”

A burst of laughter rang out and Marcella shook her head, a twinkle in her eye, “Oh - I like you bella.”

She linked her hands behind Liz’s neck and flicked her head; letting the dark curls flow over her shoulder to highlight the line of her collarbone, “Now then, what is it that I can do for you Liz?”

It was now she wished she had a bit more information on what it was Red wanted, but she could work with what she knew.

“I’ve been told you are a collector of sorts,” She lowered her voice, “That you have a unique talent for knowing information worth having and deciphering.”

A faint hum tingled, “You want a ledger? How pedestrian – I’m disappointed.”

“Actually, I want multiple ones, ones that we believe are all connected to one global criminal organisation.”

“You have the account aliases?”

“A list including ones we would need to confirm with you are what we are looking for.”

She was suddenly dipped, her blonde hair tickling the floor. Marcella’s nose grazed against her own as she slowly pulled her up, “I don’t like to draw attention, multiple accounts for one organisation – that’s attention.”

It was unlikely she was supposed to share this next bit of information.

“Have you heard of the Cabal?”

The arms around her tensed and her gaze snapped back to look at her directly, “You think you can name accounts used by the Cabal?”

Liz shrugged, “Would that be of interest to you?”

The sharpness to her eyes had returned, they scanned Liz’s face and her tongue briefly swiped between her lips.

It was clear the woman knew the power that could be gained from having access to the intricacies of a joint government run enterprise.

“Perhaps,” She muttered, “However, I would require more than simply knowing the names of these accounts to allow you to have their ledgers.”

“Name it.”

Marcella stroked a finger down her cheek and lightly pushed it to the left, “The man I was talking to.”

He was still standing in the same corner, watching the two of them dance. Liz flicked her eyes back to the Italian, “You want something from him?”

“Frederick Otto. He is the mind behind a new program which would triple the efficiency of my business. Unfortunately, his scope for seizing opportunities is more limited and he will only sell to companies given the legal stamp in the eyes of the law.”

Liz frowned, “I’m sorry, stealing his program – that’s something you need help with?”

As she spoke, it occurred to her that she really wasn’t supposed to be talking the woman out of making a deal.

“I do not dirty my hands with such matters, I was going to hire help but since you are here…” She smirked, “It is kept on a master hard drive, travelling wherever he travels and is always held in a banks vault within a security deposit box, which requires a retinal scan.”

Liz cleared her throat. It was probably doable.

“Of his dog.”

That was certainly different.

“And he’s leaving Lille tomorrow night.”

Liz looked up and sighed, then she looked back to Marcella who was definitely taking pleasure from the request.

“Okay then, we get you this hard drive and let you know the Cabal accounts and you give us their ledgers?”

The Italian grinned, “It’s a deal.”

Liz took a step to move away but she was pulled forward so the woman’s breath tingled against her lips, “I assume this is all connected to the little tiff between yourself and the U.S government at the moment. So, if you could give me a warning before whatever this is all leading up to happens so I can cut my losses with the information I will be using from these accounts, it would be appreciated.”

“I doubt I will get much of a warning myself but I’ll do my best,” She replied.

“Grazie,” A small card slipped into the curve of her dress, “Call me if you are successful.”

A light kiss caressed her cheek, grazing the corner of her mouth.

“Ciao bella.”

Liz chuckled and watched Marcella Tilli glide back through the crowd, parting couples with her presence alone. On reaching Otto, she ran a hand up his arm and pulled him down to place a light kiss on his lips. He allowed himself to be led out in a slight daze, not noticing the wink his companion sent to the blonde woman she had been dancing with.

That was how one lived up to the Italian criminal stereotype.

She turned and headed back to where she’d left her own companion.

Red was on the side perusing through some old books that must be part of a market during the day. He held up a small battered one when she approached, “Lizzie, there is an original Baudelaire _Les Fleurs du mal_ with the author’s notes just sitting amongst this mess. Whomever is responsible for this stall puts shame to his craft.”

“The craft of selling second-hand books at a flea market?”

“Everything is a craft sweetheart,” He slipped the book into his suit jacket, “For example, you seemed to have mastered the craft of seduction.”

Liz leant her shoulder against an archway, “What was that about jealousy being unbecoming?”

“I assume from the fondness of Marcella’s departure you came to an arrangement?”

She nodded, “Any of the ledgers she has that are on our list she’ll give us.”

Red raised an eyebrow, “In exchange for?”

“Who says I needed to exchange anything – perhaps I’m just that good.”

“Lizzie,” He drew out the card that was peeking out of her dress with two fingers, “If that were the case, you would have been receiving this number tomorrow morning.”

She snatched the card back, “I’ll admit it was a little tempting.”

He tried to cover his sharp intake of breath.

“However, you’re correct – she named what she wanted. You know the guy you were crushing on?”

Red tilted his head, “What of him?”

“We’re going to steal his dog.”

* * * *

The young teen scrubbed a hand through his hair.

That was one hot lady.

He scrunched up his nose when she laughed and let the old guy lead her back onto the floor.

Everyone knew only creeps wore fedoras.

If his stubble had started to grow just a bit more, he would totally go over there and sweep her off her feet.

Maybe ask the other hot woman who’d been all over her to join.

Fedora guy grinned as he let her twirl him around her hand.

Old people in love were gross.

He pushed off his archway and waved two fingers at Jean who was still trying to convince people to come along to his dance classes.

There was a slight chill breeze outside the barrier of the Stock Exchange. He unwrapped his hoodie from around his waist and put it on. The same Metallica symbol replaced the one on his t-shirt.

Shoving his hands in his pockets he strolled away from the town square, humming the tango music under his breath.

It was kind of catchy.

A hand shot out and swung him into an alcove.

His scream was muffled before it could escape.

He was spun around, the hand still over his mouth, and his back slammed against the wall.

It was dark, the person’s face was covered by a low hood. He froze as he felt a knife press against his throat.

“The man in the fedora and the blonde he was with, what were they doing?”

The voice sent a chill up the kid’s spine and he had to frantically choke back his cry, he was sure the small movement would accidently slice him.

“Je ne parle pas Anglais!” He wheezed; it was worth a try.

“L'homme dans la fedora et la blonde,” The knife nicked his skin, “Ce qu'ils faisaient?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Why’d he get a smart one?

“Danse – ils ont dansé.”

“What else?”

His brain scrambled for some English; it was flying around in panic.

“Woman – pretty woman, yellow hair woman danced with her.”

“What did she look like? Décrire.”

“Green dress, uh…” She had been hot, he didn’t know how else to describe her, “Oh Italien! Elle est Italienne! I hear her voice.”

“Did you hear what they talked about? Que parle?”

“Non, non,” His head was turned so his cheek pressed into the wall, “Mais she leave with man. Uh –“ He knew the name, Jean had spent twenty minutes telling the guy all about his tango lessons, he’d heard it, “Fred Otto! L'Italien est parti avec un homme appelé Fred Otto!”

The weight of the knife left his throat and he released a shaky breath. A hand still held him firmly in place.

There was a silence. He didn’t dare try to move away. Was he about to die?

“How did she look?”

He slowly opened one eye, “Qui?”

“L’blonde femme – how did she look?”

The teen wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted him to say here, “I don’t know…?”

The voice snapped, “Was she happy?”

The teen flicked his eyes between the knife and the light of the street just within reach. It was a fifty-fifty guess on what this crazy guy wanted him to say.

He just bit the bullet and went with the truth.

“Oui.”

The fingers dug into his shoulder and he could see the knife shaking in the other hand.

He was going to die.

Then the pressure disappeared and he collapsed to the floor.

He stayed frozen as the guys footsteps faded into the night.

After several minutes, he slowly raised his head and looked around.

The night was quiet once more, no sign of any crazy foreigners.

A teary gasp fell from his mouth and he started running.

Things like this never happened at his metal concerts.

Screw classical music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this Tango evening in Lille is an actual thing! When I first arrived in the city I was wandering around in the evening and came out of an alley into the main square to this very sight and sound! When I first saw the Blacklist I remembered that and thought it would definitely be somewhere Red and Liz would end up at some point. 
> 
> And why should Red be the only one who gets to seduce the pretty women? 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, stealing a dog is a lot more hassle than it seems.

* * * *

Red slowly breathed in, lifting his hands above his head in time to the rise of his chest.

He counted to three.

At a matched speed, he pushed his hands down and out in front of his body, letting the air leave his lungs and the stress vacate his mind.

“Doing great at the back sweetie!”

Red gave Becki a quick thumbs up, which lit up her grin to an even greater extremity.

Lille was a peculiar place for a young Californian girl to decide to begin a yoga business, however, she currently had ten customers in the park with her so it was apparent a market existed.

Besides, it had been far too long since he had partook in yoga.

“Now, gently lift your left leg. Balance your weight just as you wish to balance your life.”

Becki tended towards menial wordplay but her techniques were on point.

A ripple of relief spread through his leg as the muscle stretched under the strain.

The phone on his mat buzzed and he bent down to pick it up, then returned to his position.

He held it up to his ear, “Lizzie, have you found a suitable vehicle?”

There was no reply.

“Lizzie?”

“Are you doing yoga?”

Red quickly surveyed his surroundings as he switched legs. He caught a snatch of blonde around the end corner of the row of houses facing the park.

“I required a viable excuse to be outside Mr Otto’s house for an extended period and this dear young girl was kind enough to invite me to join her yoga class.”

“So, I’m stealing cars and you’re doing yoga?”

“I could book you a lesson for later if you wish.”

“Yeah – no, I’m alright.”

A rustle and a few clicks came down the line.

“Your forms very good by the way.”

A light thud.

“Okay, I’ve got a car ready to go, now we just need him to take his dog for a walk. Which I’m still saying is a very amateur plan.”

Red tucked the phone on his shoulder so he could spread out both arms as he leant into a lunge, “Simple sweetheart. Not amateur. Otto is a man who ensures his dog travels with him at all times. Who ludicrously uses it as a means of security. Hence, he clearly holds a strong connection to the animal. A man like this would be highly unlikely to break the set rule of a walk in the morning and evening.”

“It’s gone seven and we’ve been here for an hour already, what if he’s a late sleeper? How much yoga can you do?”

“I once spent three days with a Tibet monk practicing the art of meditative dance. To experience true inner peace and understanding one can only rest as the sun sets and as it rises. To be one with nature is to work in the fullness of the sun and the light of the moon.”

There was a sigh, “That’s on me – forgot who I was talking to. Well, he better come out soon because I don’t know when the owner of this car might come back.”

“Embrace the improvisation Lizzie. To attempt such a theft in a single day, with notice only given the previous night and a deadline bearing down; it will be a beneficial learning opportunity.”

“Coaxing a small dog into a bag – a skill for life.”

He dropped the phone onto the mat as he arched his back and stretched his neck to the floor, “It was you who was witnessed in your role of seduction last night – therefore, today I get the task.”

“What are you going to do if he’s a homophobic jerk?”

“He’s Canadian,” Red muttered, “If that is the case, he will bury it under the instinct to be polite.”

A door across the street opened and Otto stepped out; his dog on a leash that was looped around his wrist.

Not, apparently, the type of dog one would suspect to be used for retinal security in banks.

A light curse uttered from the phone, “I’m going to need a bigger bag.”

Otto turned and locked his door as a German Shepard sniffed at his pants.

Red snapped the phone shut and straightened up. He quickly handed Becki her fee plus extra, gave her his thanks and then jogged out of the park gate.

He quickened his pace, deepening his breaths to give the illusion he had been running for a while and crossed the road so he was heading towards Otto; who was fiddling with his phone as he began walking down the path.

Liz’s head could be seen behind, poking out from the other end of the street.

Otto had only taken a few steps away from the house when a weight flew into him and he crashed to the ground.

“Oh!” Red pushed against the man’s chest to rise slightly, “My goodness, darling, I am so sorry! I am such a clutz – I wasn’t even looking!”

Their legs were tangled together, Otto grabbed his arm to try and help push him up, “No, it’s fine, my fault.”

Red sat up so he was practically sitting on the man’s lap, “Well, I would think a fit young man like you would be a bit harder to push over!”

The German Shepard sniffed at his side and he took the opportunity to unclip the leash, hiding the action by sliding his hand up the dogs back and using it to push himself up. He clipped the end of the leash to a weight in his back pocket and helped Otto to his feet. Pulling him slightly closer than causal conversation called for, ensuring that the dog was no longer placed within view.

Otto flushed and cleared his throat, “Yeah – well, I don’t really go to the gym much anymore…” He trailed off, unsure why he was sharing that information.

Behind him, the dog lifted it’s head; ears twitching towards a specialised frequency.

Red latched to the uncertainty, “Darling, _believe_ me – it doesn’t show. I’m the one in need of work! Why do you think I’m putting myself through this torture?”

He gestured to his tracksuit ensemble.

“True - I mean, no!” Otto nervously laughed, “I mean you look fine, I’m sure you’re fine.”

The large German Shepard had run down to the end of the street to investigate the noise and was now happily munching on the treats that were waiting on the ground.

Liz just stood there, watching it eat. A tiny rucksack clutched in one hand.

“You flatter me,” Red gently poked his chest, “And how lovely to hear a neighbour! What’s a cute Canadian doing in a little town like this?”

Otto shrugged, “Oh you know, just some business meetings.”

Liz dropped the bag and started laying out a trail of treats that disappeared around the corner.

“Oh, how mysterious! I bet you’re one of those young fetching CEOs aren’t you?”

She began sternly gesturing to the trail. The dog seemed perfectly happy with what it already had.

“No – well I guess, I created this thing so I’m just here to sell it.”

Red inched closer and rested a hand on his bicep, “An inventor, well now you have definitely caught my attention. Tell me all about it!”

Now she was just pushing her entire weight against the dog.

“It’s not very exciting, just like a coding thing – but I think it’s going to help a lot of people.”

It started licking her face and she slumped to the floor with a huff.

“How lovely! In what way?”

Her gaze went back to the rucksack and she picked it up.

“Just like, helping the police and stuff tracking criminals, working out connections between them.”

The dog had gone back to eating, apparently unperturbed by the strange woman who was slipping its front legs into the arms of a rucksack.

“Hmm, then I can lie in my bed knowing you’re keeping me safe Mr…?”

Liz was hunched over, one hand holding food for the dog and the other pulling it along by the rucksack that was now on its back as if it were off to school. Both slowly shuffled around the corner and out of sight.

“Oh, um Otto – well Fred, that’s my first name.”

Red smiled and leant in, tilting his head up slightly, “Well then thank you Fred,” He let his voice purr, “I feel much safer already.”

He unclipped the leash from the weight in his pocket and let it fall to the floor.

Otto stumbled a bit, edging away from Red and cleared his throat. The hand he brought up to his mouth was the one the leash was looped around.

“I mean, it’s not really –“ He frowned and looked down, “Bobby!”

Red looked down as well and gasped, “Oh no! Where’s your dog?”

Otto was already spinning in circles, his voice tearing across the street, “No, no, no! Bobby! Bobby! Here boy! Bobby!”

Red grasped his arms and forced him still, the man’s eyes snapped to him. There were already tears running down his face.

“Darling just breath! He’s just wandered off – look, why don’t you go look in the park and I’ll check the nearby streets.”

Otto whimpered but nodded his head, “The park – yes, Bobby likes the park.”

“Then that’s where he’ll be.” Red pushed him towards the road, “Quickly, before he gets further away!”

Otto didn’t even glance back as he sprinted over the road, immediately running and frantically questioning the first person he saw when he went through the gate. Becki quickly nodded and pointed him in the direction of the far side of the park.

Red strolled down to the end of the street as Otto set off to where she had indicated.

A white car door opened as he came around the corner.

He slipped into the passenger seat.

It pulled away and took the next street, joining the main road at the end.

“Lizzie.”

She released a sharp huff.

“What?”

He turned to her. The German Shepard was licking her neck which had somehow acquired a coat of dogfood.

“That, was by far, the worst dog-napping I have ever witnessed.”

His head cracked against the window as she took a sudden left turn.

“Oops.”

He quietly put his seat belt on.

“Next time – how about you let the person who’s going to be stealing the dog, actually check what kind of dog it is, rather than adamantly dismissing it as an unnecessary task.”

It seemed now was not the moment for humour.

Red tapped his fingers against the headboard, they would only have at a maximum forty-five minutes before Otto thought past the need to search for his pet and considered more heinous reasons for the disappearance.

Why the man thought it at all sensible to use his dog as a security measure lacked any reasoning. Furthermore, was the question of why a bank had agreed to go along with such a ludicrous request.

Yet, apart from to feed curiosity, the whys of the situation were not required.

It was the how that he had to quickly re-evaluate.

Tilli had been kind enough to send Liz the number of Otto’s box. That was in hand.

Entry to the vault where the deposit boxes were accessed was acquired. The previous night he had persuaded an acquaintance to name one of his aliases as the new account owner of an existing box.

However, with this, he had learnt the protocols of the particular banks vault which had removed the idea to simply steal the locked box itself and bring it to the dog.

A key held by the bank opened the outer door in the vault wall, then the retinal scan was required to remove the security box from the wall itself before the contents could be unlocked.

Hence, the flawless abduction of the animal.

This was where the plan was in need of alteration.

A small dog, which would have been anyone’s assessment of the type owned when accessibility was a desire, could have easily been snuck into the establishment.

The German Shepard malting all over the back seat, could not.

And due to the strangeness of the situation, any employee would clearly remember the man who originally brought in such a dog to set up security on his deposit box in their vault.

So, a different individual, wishing to enter the same vault, with the same dog, despite stating they were there to access a completely different box.

Even_ he_ could not convince such a thing to be a mere coincidence.

“The banks on the next street,” Liz’s grip tightened on the wheel, “Have you got a new plan or do I just keep driving?”

Red’s jaw clenched.

It was something he had sworn he would never degrade himself to.

They passed a police station as they turned onto the next street.

That also played a part in why the idea held little viability.

The self-respect aspect was still the primary reason.

He leant back and reached into the small rucksack.

“Take this,” He handed her one of the items he had pulled out.

Liz glanced down to it and then back up with a raised eyebrow, “Wow – this much be a real low point for you.”

He sighed and gestured to a space in front of the bank, “Please, let us just simply get it over with and not prolong the humiliation.”

* * * *

Leon shifted his weight onto his left foot as the elderly woman brought out yet another bag of coins and continued her counting.

The next customer gave a purposeful cough.

She didn’t hear the noise but Leon offered the man an apologetic smile.

Technically they weren’t supposed to accept small tender, but she’d started talking about how her late husband used to do all the finances and suddenly she had already counted out one bag. What could he do?

The man made another noise and Leon looked back to offer a verbal apology but discovered the woman’s counting had not been the cause this time.

Two people in black balaclava masks wielding guns had just stormed through the entrance.

And they had a giant German Shepard.

“If everyone could kindly lie face down on the ground with their hands above their heads it would be most appreciated,” The man announced, pressing his gun against the security guards head and gesturing for him to drop his weapon, “Le sol! Merci.”

Leon pressed the silent alarm under his desk, the police were just one street over. They’d be here in two minutes. Everything would be fine.

“Drop it!” The woman spun and raised her gun at the other guard who had been out of her view. She somehow held a steady aim despite the dog tugging against its leash in her other hand.

“Sweetheart, if you could just handle these fine folks.” He stepped over and took hold of the dog who immediately stopped struggling.

This seemed to irritate her but she gave him a sweet smile, “Of course Donald, whatever you want.”

He paused and shook his head, “I can’t take you anywhere.”

Leon jumped as the man suddenly turned to him.

“As you were the first to trigger the alarm, I assume you hold a role of leadership here,” He stepped forward and tapped against the glass with the barrel of the gun, “Parles-tu Anglais?”

Leon quickly nodded, his hands raised, “Oui, yes.”

“Brilliant!” The man beamed at him, “With me then please, as you have probably deduced, I need the key for box 237 in your security vault – if you could hurry. As you know we don’t have long.” He glanced back to his companion, “Honey-bun I’ll just be a tick.”

“Okay Donnie!” She wiggled her fingers at him whilst keeping her gaze fixed on the people she’d gathered on the floor in front of her.

Leon stumbled out from behind the desk. Marie touched his leg from where she was crouched down as he passed and he tried to give her a reassuring nod; he probably wasn’t very believable. These two seemed like they were on some kind of date rather than robbing a bank. They didn’t get training for a Bonnie and Clyde situation.

He had told Francis they shouldn’t let that guy use his dog for the retinal scanner.

The gun waved him over to the vault bars and he swiped his card and entered the security code.

“In we go,” The man, Donald it seemed, indicated him to go first.

Leon went over to the safe where the deposit box keys were kept and swiped and entered a code again.

The police were going to be here any minute. He grabbed Mr Otto’s key and forced himself to look back to the man, he had a responsibility, “Monsieur Donald, yes?”

The man sighed, his eyes flicking back to where they’d just come from, “I suppose so, yes.”

“At this bank,” His voice cracked, “We – we promise our customers the best care.”

Donald grabbed the key from his hand and pushed him forward, “And as a customer myself, I can say that you are doing a splendid job.”

The box door clicked open to reveal the scanner.

They both looked down at the dog.

It looked back up at them, wagging its tail.

The man gestured his weapon, “You will need to pick it up.”

Leon’s eyes widened, “Quoi?”

“I am holding a gun, I can hardly do it – come now, quickly.”

This was not a situation he had ever pictured himself in.

He leant down and put his arms under the German Shepard’s belly, grunting as it twisted to try and lick his face. He managed to lift it up to his chest level but it wasn’t quite high enough; his arms shaking, he forced himself to lift it a little more.

“Perfect, hold it there,” Donald kept the gun aimed at his head as he leant in and guided the dog’s face to look into the scanner, “There we go – open the strange man’s box.”

The device beeped and Leon almost dropped the dog, but managed to catch himself and put it down fairly softly.

“There it is,” The man muttered, pulling out the container and taking out the small box inside. He slipped it into his pant pocket, “Right, back we go – the police should have arrived by now. You can leave the dog.”

They walked back into the main lobby where the woman was now standing behind a pillar, clearly keeping out of range of the police who could be seen beginning to line up outside the windows.

Donald threw up his hands, “Why are they still on the floor?”

Her eyes, which were scarily piercing as the only visible part of her face, snapped his way, “Because they’re hostages? Surprisingly enough, I’ve seen this played out quite a few times before.”

“Yes, by amateurs,” He huffed, Leon flinched as a hand grabbed the collar of his shirt, “Line them all up facing the windows, instant cover.”

“You manage to be smug about completely undeserved things,” She replied, but did begin to move the crowd, “La fenêtre s’il-vous plait. Pardon.”

“Do not worry – this will all be over soon!” Donald added, kindly smiling to a couple who scurried past him with their hands raised, “Tout va bien!”

Leon was brought along as the man walked over to join his partner as the windows got blocked off.

“I have the item.”

She threw him an unimpressed look, “Great – shall we just pop out and get back in the car then?”

“Sarcasm will not help the situation.”

“It helps me,” She tilted her head towards their hostages who were lined up with their backs turned and lowered her voice, “We’re terrifying these poor people.”

He matched the level, “They will be fine – it will all make for a great dinner party story later on.”

Was this man really comforting his girlfriend about how _she_ felt due to taking people hostage?

She held the man’s gaze, then after a moment looked away and seemed to notice Leon for the first time.

“Who’s this?”

Donald smiled, “Oh yes – my apologies, this is… I’m sorry, how rude I didn’t actually enquire.”

They were absolutely crazy.

“Leon.” He forced out.

“My good friend Leon,” The man put an arm around his shoulder as if he didn’t have a gun casually pointed towards him, “He has been of great assistance so far.”

“Then invite him out for lunch,” She hissed, “But first just focus on planning. Because we’re doing that thing where you want me to think you have everything under control, so I pretend to not notice you scanning the room trying to come up with an idea. Normally, that’s fine. But right now, those police think we’re just some common bank robbers of little threat and they are not going to wait very long before breaching.”

The words spilled out in such a rush that Leon didn’t quite catch it all but he got the summary that she wasn’t too happy with her partner. Taking a breath, she turned to look at him instead and he tensed at what she might do.

A gentle hand lightly squeezed his arm and her voice somehow melted into a soft reassuring chime, “I really am sorry about this by the way, I know you don’t have any reason to believe me but we’re not going to hurt you. Honestly, if a certain someone hadn’t been so adamant about the size of a dog we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

He wasn’t sure how quickly Stockholm Syndrome could kick in but Leon actually found himself breathing a little easier at her words.

“The beast had to be lifted _above_ chest height – and Leon is hardly a short man,” Donald complained, “A German Shepard is completely absurd.”

“_We don’t need a retcon to attempt to discover the breed, it’s the least of our worries_.” The imitation was pretty good. Her voice switched back and she pointed towards the windows, “It’s become pretty worrisome.”

“I hardly locked you away, you could have gone to check if you’d so wished.”

“Don’t turn this around! You made a mistake – for once, it was you.”

“The implication that usually it is you my dear?”

“I _will_ hit you in front of your new friend.”

“Promises sweetheart.”

Leon wasn’t entirely sure how this was focusing and thinking of a plan.

A shrill ring interrupted them. They stepped apart from where their hushed argument had brought them in each other’s breathing space and looked to the landline on the desk.

“That will be our negotiator.” Donald clapped his hands and walked over to pick up the phone, when he did his voice switched to an almost flawless French accent, “Il est grand temps. Je veux un camion blindé et une route claire vers une piste d'atterrissage avec un avion en attente pour mon équipe. Trouvez et amenez m. Hugo Martin ici. Sinon, nous commencerons à tuer un otage toutes les heures.”

A few soft cries came from the people lining the windows as he put down the phone. The woman had seemed genuine when she said he would be safe but did she have control over her partner? Or would he really begin killing them in one hour.

She raised her eyebrow as he returned to their corner away from the hostages, “Armoured truck and plane I get – but who on earth is Hugo Martin?”

Donald smirked, “A very generic French name. The first request was for legitimacy but we both know they won’t waste much time pretending to comply – however, we will gain time with their search for the mysterious Hugo and his importance.”

He clapped Leon on the shoulder; the gun was no longer pointing at him and he realised neither of them had been focusing a weapon on him for a while. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just moved away from them and gone to stand by the window.

The thought came too late.

“Leon, thinking of more liable exit vehicles – is there anyone you could call who could get to the road the next block over within a quick time frame, the one opposite the transit office?”

How had he become a third member to these two people’s insanity?

“I don’t know…” He had always been a terrible liar.

Which was clear to them as well.

“Look Leon,” The woman had brought out that tone again and he hated that it was working, “If we wait here too long the police will decide to breach, they can’t see inside which means there’s a high likelihood some people are going to get shot. The quicker we leave, the quicker this is all over. Whoever you call – I guarantee we will not harm them.”

How did a bank robber have such emotive eyes? He cursed and felt himself give in, “My boyfriend lives nearby, he doesn’t work Mondays – he could get there.”

A sigh of relief bled into her smile, “Merci beaucoup Leon, truly.”

He found himself smiling back, then quickly wiped it off, he needed to stop letting the criminals befriend him. Taking out his mobile he hit Ryan’s number and held it to his ear; as he did the man leant forward, “Keep in mind we speak French, keep the details to you and two friends need a ride. Create an urgency of some variety.”

Leon nodded and the man patted his shoulder; then he took his partner’s arm and led her aside so their voices became too muffled for him to easily translate.

The line clicked and Ryan’s voice came through.

Leon spoke before he’d even got a chance to greet him, “Mon amour, j'ai besoin que tu me fasses une faveur.”

As he tried to convince Ryan that he really needed the lift and that it was perfectly normal request in the middle of his workday, half his attention stayed fixed on the strange duo.

They had to be some kind of couple. Maybe criminal partners with benefits or two lovers who sought out thrills together. Although, neither of those quite fit – take away the being in the middle of a robbery part and he’d have just thought them to be a normal married couple.

Well, a married couple anyway.

It seemed they were arguing again. The woman jabbed a finger to Donald’s chest and he tried to take the hand but she smacked him away. Whatever they were talking about had become a bit more serious.

_“Mais pourquoi ne peuvent-ils pas prendre un taxi?”_

“Elle a été enlevée dans un avant.”

Their whole demeanour was really confusing him. They just didn’t suit this kind of situation – that they were criminals, he had no doubt– but ones who wore balaclavas and stole people’s deposit boxes? The attitude they both displayed, like this whole thing was a mild inconvenience just as having a dinner reservation fall through could be such for regular people, he’d place them conning the rich in high end galas before this.

The man placed his hands gently on either side of her face and for a moment it seemed she was going to actually smack him, but then he whispered something and her shoulders fell. Her gaze flicked to the hostages, who had not yet tried to flee despite the weapons not currently being pointed at them. Apparently, they believed these two people would start killing them if they did something wrong. Which rationally, was how he should be feeling as well. The woman then tapped the hand still on her cheek and gave a slight nod before walking over to the back room.

Donald’s eyes followed her as she left, as if tethered to her every move.

_“Bien, je serai là dans quelques minutes.”_

“Tu es mon ange, je t’aime tellement!”

Leon ended the call and went back over to Donald, “He’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect,” He placed his arm back around his shoulder and leant in to whisper, “Meanwhile, we have come up with the means to keep the illusion that we are still holding the hostages as we make our escape.”

The woman had reappeared, unravelling a toil of wire that led into the room she had come from.

This didn’t seem good.

Donald gave his neck a light squeeze of what seemed to be reassurance and stepped forward, raising his voice to address the group, “My dear friends, my colleague and I have some matters to tend to in the vaults. Now, to ensure everyone remains safe and where they are whilst we step away, this wire is being attached behind you and to the doors.”

She was hooking the wire to the far wall and leading it along so it was just grazing the people’s backs; then she wound some between the door handles and lead the rest back into the room. A few seconds later the entire thing snapped taunt.

“If this wire is moved slightly, or goes slack, it will trigger the explosive that it is attached to. Le fil bouge et une bombe explose.”

Whimpers of terror spread across the group.

“It has quite a nasty bite so it would be best for all of us if that did not occur. Once again, I am really very sorry for all of this. You are being very considerate and I wish you all the best. Mes plus sincères excuses.”

Donald swung around and strode into the back after his partner.

Leon assumed he was supposed to follow.

For some reason he did.

Stepping through the door he released a sharp sigh of relief. In the centre of the room the taunt wire was attached to a metal table leg. No bomb. No explosion.

Strangely, it had actually been the kind of thing he had expected to see.

It didn’t mean he agreed with the trauma everyone in the lobby was currently being put through. Which, from the ridged stance of the woman, was a shared opinion.

“Shall we go then, so these poor civilians can finally go home?” She opened the door to the emergency staircase and gestured her arm through.

Donald grinned and tilted his head, “Of course sweetheart, our ride is on its way. Come along Leon.”

He followed them up; when they reached the roof access Donald slipped forward and cracked the door open, indicating them to keep low as they stepped out.

The building was probably a bit too accessible for a bank.

It was part of a square of linked buildings with an open courtyard in the middle. These were then connected to three other squares of the same design, making it fairly easy to cut across to the next block from above.

The woman sidled up to his side and gave his hand a faint squeeze, “As soon as we’ve got some distance, you can call in and tell the police everything. Your colleagues won’t be there too much longer.”

“Merci.” He squeezed back.

Now he was giving the criminal gratitude.

Donald clapped him on the back as he passed and took lead. They ran over the roofs with good speed for having to awkwardly remain hunched over, keeping out of sight of any casual onlookers from the ground.

When they reached the last building, they all crouched behind the small wall edge; the man tapped his shoulder, “Can you see your boyfriend's car?”

Leon quickly glanced over. He immediately spotted the dark red Skoda and could see Ryan in the driver’s seat, spinning his car keys around his finger the way he did when he was worried.

He would really have to make this up to him. Maybe take him on that trip to Rome; after this ordeal he could suck up his dislike of Italian cuisine to get to see that surprised look of delight on Ryan’s face. What was the point of holding back just because he didn’t like the idea? Anything that made his partner happy should give him just as much joy.

Leon nodded, “Oui, he’s in the red Skoda opposite.”

The woman huffed, “How fitting.”

There was a metal staircase on the side of the building in a small alleyway, they quickly descended the stairs and ran across the road.

Both were still wearing their masks, which made them quite conspicuous, but clearly, they didn’t want the possibility of even a slight sketch to be drawn of them. Not that he was very good at giving descriptions anyway, although Ryan would have done well.

Ryan greeted them with a string of curses as they suddenly all piled into the car.

Leon grabbed his arm and placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze, “C'est bon mon amour, ils ne vont pas nous faire de mal. Ils sont très étranges, mais ils ne sont pas dangereux.”

“I take strangeness as a compliment,” Donald leant forward between their seats, “And Leon is correct we hold no danger to you, we simply require a speedy exit from this location.”

Ryan blinked at the stranger in his car and then cast his gaze to the second stranger slouched down next to him.

He gritted his teeth and pointed a finger in Leon’s face, “Si c'est une autre de tes blagues…”

The woman quickly interrupted, “Definitely not a prank. Very real, and we very much need you to start driving right now.”

Ryan started up the car, but he still cast Leon a suspicious glance whilst quickly pulling out and exiting the street.

One bad April Fool’s joke and his integrity is apparently forever compromised.

The two backseat passengers stayed quiet as they drove. The woman typing into her phone and the man casting quick glances out of the window when they turned onto new roads. They didn’t give a location to be taken and Ryan didn’t ask. Leon had an idea about where he was planning on throwing them out.

He was going to be in for a big surprise when he saw the news later.

They took another turn and Ryan pulled up alongside the building where the American ‘Roleplay Adventures’ service had opened up last year. One of their specialties being fake abductions.

It had meant to be funny.

How was he to know Ryan would overreact and call a literal city-wide manhunt out for him.

“Vos amis peuvent y aller maintenant.” Ryan gave his partner a sharp smile.

Donald placed a hand on Leon’s shoulder, “It seems it would be best for us to make an exit. Leon, you have been wonderful. I wish you the best.” He slid an envelope out of his jacket and handed it to him before offering a final nod and getting out of the car.

The woman leant forward and placed a light kiss on his cheek, “Don’t wait, just make the phone call.”

She climbed out the other door and walked over to her partner’s side. He ran a light touch over the small of her back and then they both quickly disappeared down the building’s alleyway.

Ryan frowned and took the envelope from his hands.

He opened it and his mouth fell open. His eyes shot up and his head snapped over to where his two passengers had just disappeared.

Leon leant over and peeked in.

A stack of notes of an amount he only ever saw at work sat inside.

Internally, he couldn’t lie and pretend he didn’t wish the strange, violent and generous crime couple good luck.

* * * *

Liz threw her bag down and kicked the door closed.

Marcella had been happy enough to receive the hard drive and had unsurprisingly suggested that they went out to celebrate the success.

Another night she might have agreed, but today she was tired and grumpy and just wanted to curl up in her bed. Preferably with a large glass of wine.

Otto had been on the news as she’d walked past a bar. Talking about the theft as he crouched down hugging the neck of his reunited pet. The dog seemed to be diluting the cut of the incident.

Must be nice to have a dog to go home to.

“Red? I’ve got the ledgers – disappointedly they’re computer files rather than cool leather books.”

She slipped her shoes off and padded through to the lounge.

The sight made her pause.

Red was crouched by the television, setting up a DVD player that hadn’t been there earlier. On the table were two large Dominos pizzas accompanied by chicken wings and garlic bread. A bottle of red wine sat by two generously filled glasses.

He turned to look to her with a smile, “That is unfortunate, however books may have been slightly too large for our travel luggage.”

She frowned and picked up one of the glasses, taking a sip and collapsing onto the couch, “What are you doing?”

The screen lit up with the players symbol and he inserted a disc, then arose to settle next to her.

“Despite todays success, you seemed a little off put – I thought you may be in need of a little pick up,” He leant over and took the other glass, “I had been wondering when to show you this and I believe today is when it is called for.”

Red clicked play on the remote and the screen lit up.

Liz gasped, immediately putting down the glass and sliding off the couch so she was on her knees in front of the television.

“_Say hello Hudson!”_

A golden fluff of fur came and sniffed the camera and then stepped back, his tongue hanging out and tail wagging.

He looked so happy.

Tom had sent him to their friend Ellie’s to be looked after, but with everything that happened she’d never had a chance to find out if he was still there or what might have happened to him.

Red’s voice spoke gently from behind her, “I had an associate check on Hudson when we fled. Your friend Ellie had been in a position of needing to give him to a shelter; fortunately, I knew a family with two young children who were more than happy at the prospect of acquiring a furry friend.”

The video had cut to Hudson barking and playfully chasing two little girls around a large garden.

“It seemed our business with a dog was perhaps playing with thoughts of your own.”

A tear ran down Liz’s cheek. It wasn’t something she had really been consciously thinking about. But there _had_ been a small weight that had pushed on her the longer she had been around the German Shepard.

Right now, this was something she hadn’t realised she really needed.

Liz leant back and looked up at the man sitting behind her.

In the middle of fleeing a country, he had thought to check on her dog.

An uncontrollable affection vibrated against her chest.

She raised a hand and lightly grabbed his collar, slowly pulling his head down to her.

Closing her eyes, she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, holding it and just breathing him in.

When she moved back, his gaze met hers with such a delicate fondness that she had to remember to take a breath.

Liz took his arm and tugged him down to join her on the floor. She shifted forward so that he could slip in behind her, his back against the couch whilst she in turn leant back into his chest.

His arms slipped around her and his chin rested on her shoulder, “Hudson was blessed for the time he got to spend with you.”

Returning to watch the screen, Liz laced her fingers through one hand around her and raised the other to lightly stroke the side of his neck.

“I know how he feels,” She whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you have some spare time, feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought. I always like hearing feedback!
> 
> I had to give Hudson a mention somehow. It was sad that he kind of just disappeared from the show, never to fully know what happened to him. He was such a cute dog!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movements against the Cabal are put into play but a criminal enterprise doesn't run itself.

“Hey mate!”

Gary jumped, spilling some of his coffee over his shirt, “Man, don’t do that!”

His colleague shrugged, tapping his hand against the portacabin door, “Sorry – look boss just wanted me to tell you to close the DigiBit account.”

“Why?” Gary grabbed a post-stick note and tried to wipe off the stain, “I didn’t get any request they wanted to pull business, I mean they have what – just under fifty shipping containers. Why bother? They go bust or something?”

Jackson rolled his eyes, “I don’t know man! The boss got some call then he went all dictator telling me to just get their contract cancelled – we’re not working with them no more.”

Gary huffed and poured a bit of water out of his bottle on the shirt, “Yeah whatever, I’ll pull it now.”

“Cool,” He pointed at him as he left, “Remember, put ins for the match today, gonna take your money again!”

“Screw you Jackson!”

* * * *

“Will that be all madame?”

Samantha nodded, “Yes thank you.” She handed her card over and glanced down to admire the small diamonds in the display.

A beep rang out and the saleswoman typed a few strokes into the computer.

She looked up, her tone maintaining its polite neutrality, “I’m very sorry madame, but your card has been flagged – I’m afraid in such a circumstance I have to confiscate it.”

Samantha smiled, putting her gloves back on, “Of course, I understand. I’ll contact my bank to see what has happened, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

The woman returned the smile, “Yes madame, would you like to use another form of payment?”

“No, that’s alright – I’ll come back when I’ve got the matter sorted.”

The saleswoman inclined her head and removed the package containing the small brooch from the desk, “We look forward to seeing you again.”

She picked up her bags and left the store.

Then walked across the street to a corner shop where they sold pre-paid phones.

* * * *

“Oh Dr Lewis!”

She spun around as Matthew’s called out from the reception desk.

“What’s up?”

He rifled through the mess of paper in front of him before grabbing one and quickly scanning it, “Did you approve that bid for the spare IV boxes yet?”

She squinted, “The Andrews guy? Um, I don’t think so – was going to approve it later today, why?”

“Someone called in asking for those same specific supplies, offered double.”

Lewis smirked, “Seems there’s a rivalry going on somewhere. Well it’s all the same to me, send me the details, I’ll approve for the person giving us more money.”

“Get that dollar doctor!” Matthew’s whooped, then looked down to the mess again, “Just give me a few minutes to find where I wrote down the name.”

She rolled her eyes and continued down the hall, “For goodness sake, tidy your desk!”

“It has a system!”

* * * *

A shrill ring broke through a blanket of sleep.

Laurel rolled over and blindly grabbed the mobile that had not been turned off since she’d first brought it.

Her voice was controlled and polished despite her being wrapped among a crumpled sheet with hair scattered all across her face. The illusion that normalities such as sleep were beneath her was important to her image.

“Hitchin.”

“_He’s attacking us_!”

She held back a groan and shifted to sit up against the headboard, “Peter, what impression have I given that makes you believe you can call me at this hour?”

“_This is serious Laurel_!” The Director hissed, “_I’ve had nine of our informants or small business operators call in the past hour because their sales can’t go through or issues have been flagged with their accounts.”_

“Nine? I see why you called; we wouldn’t want it to get to something crazy like ten.”

“_They’re just the ones I’ve heard from! If they’re compromised then guaranteed there’s more – these are all accounts nobody should have been able to link.”_ There was a clink of liquor falling onto ice.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through her hair, “So from this, you believe Reddington has somehow gained information on a large proportion of our minor operations?”

_“He’s going to drain us! We need to do more – get me on the taskforce! I’ll find them from there and eliminate them.”_

Laurel slipped on her silk dressing gown, “That team is already paranoid, if I suddenly arrived as an outsider and demanded they give all their information to another government organisation they will have immediate suspicion.” She walked down the stairs, “And try to tone down the dramatics Peter, if Reddington had the means or wanted to remove all our minor accounts he would have done it. This was simply a warning telling us that he has such information. A move to keep us on edge with the lack of knowledge as to which other operations he is aware of – we may just have to scale back for a short time.”

_“We’ve already scaled back! Do you know how it will look if we have to do it even more? Your boy’s already all over me because of the Fulcrum thing!”_

Laurel poured herself a glass of water, “Solomon just has a lot of emotions to release. You have no need to worry – he’s having fun eliminating associates of Reddington whilst he tries to find the man himself. It isn’t particularly structured but one less contact is the same as another.

She heard a glass slam against a table, “_Just do something Laurel! Having control of hundreds of covert operatives is of no use when I don’t have anywhere to actually send them!”_

“Try to get some sleep Peter – and perhaps scale back the late-night drinking.”

Laurel ended the call and took a sip of water.

This was not good.

The Cabal relied heavily on average citizens who carried out various small-scale businesses unaware of who precisely they were doing so on the behalf of.

If Reddington had knowledge of all those accounts he could significantly cripple them.

And not knowing which he was aware of meant they couldn’t just clear up the defect ones.

He could only be aware of a handful or he could be aware of every single one.

Without any certainty they were pushed into a corner.

This was going to cost them a lot.

Peter had been right to be worried, but she did not appreciate the fact he had showed it.

The broadcasting of such emotions was a display of weakness.

She tapped a new number onto the mobile and brought it to her ear.

A grainy voice answered after the first ring, “Yep?”

“Do you still have one of your team with Solomon?”

“Yeah.”

She poured out the glass and headed back up to her room, “Get them to send a message that he’s about to make it onto the FBI’s radar.”

Laurel hung up and placed the phone back onto the bedside desk.

It seemed it was time to make friends with Reddington’s little taskforce.

* * * *

“Elizabeth, the colour does not suit your skin tone.”

Liz stepped over to the floor-length mirror and held the cream dress up to her body, “But I’m more tanned now.”

“It does not work.”

“Okay, maybe – but look at the design!” She spun around to face him, “Will people really notice the colour with this gorgeous pattern?”

Dembe didn’t reply.

Liz huffed and hung the dress back on the rack, “Fine! You’re right, but I need to find something. I really can’t go to anymore events wearing an item Red’s made appear in my room.”

They were always stunning but she was beginning to feel like a kept woman. It was only her distaste for the tedious task of clothes shopping that had led her to accept the items each time so far. She had almost decided to forego it this time too once they’d begun walking down the little boutique streets, but Dembe had apparently noticed her eyes flickering to the shop windows. He had silently turned into the nearest one and begun examining the suit jackets.

It was nice having him back.

As she spoke his gaze had wandered out of the window. He looked back to her and held out his arm, “If I may?”

“One shop and you’ve already given up on me,” She teased, linking her arm through his.

The corner of his mouth briefly curved.

They strolled across the cobbled street and he led them into a smaller boutique. He released her and went over to the older woman behind the desk, leaning down to quietly utter a few words.

The woman lit up and nodded, coming over and stepping past Liz straight to the window. For a small lady she had no problem lifting down the mannequin.

“Come,” Her accent was heavy as she gestured for her to go to the small alcove at the back, partitioned off by a thin blanket.

Liz threw Dembe a glance as she took the dress that had been on the mannequin.

He was occupied trailing his fingers over some pendants.

As soon as she put the dress on, she chuckled.

Firstly, it wasn’t actually a dress; the bottom was spilt into shorts which looked like a dress when standing still. The Greek tunic style layering the fabric so it created a lovely flow.

And, she discovered with delight, it had pockets. Deep pockets.

The colour was quite near to cream but this shade wasn’t draining her.

More importantly, her whole hand fitted into the pockets.

“Dembe, you are a true advocate for women’s rights.” She called out.

Red would probably have a heart attack when she showed up wearing this hybrid monstrosity.

That morning, he had told her all about the Greeks fashion history as they had eaten breakfast in a little courtyard. The elegance of it and the simplicity of the one uncut sheet pinned so the fall of fabric was just right.

This piece had definitely involved a lot of sewing.

After breakfast, he had returned to the ship to conduct some business with his friend who had been letting them ride along on his journey towards Egypt. Reddington business, not Cabal. It was one of the many elements that had to be juggled as time went on. Keeping his criminal enterprise thriving as if nothing were wrong, whilst placing so many of his efforts into keeping the two of them hidden and working against the government organisation.

Liz had gotten into the habit of joining him for his various meetings, however Red has suggested she took advantage of the land whilst they were docked for a bit.

A prolonged time at sea was leaving her a little queasy, but she was pretty certain his words had been more to do with the fact he had been trying to limit her time spent around Edwards and his ensemble. Edwards, who was Red’s associate, conducted trade that lay within his moral codes; however, he had told her before he asked to join the journey, that the same could not be said for all others who Edwards in turn did business with.

It was amusing, because she was fairly certain it was less to do with shielding her and more to give her less opportunity to fire at these others about how she felt towards their ways of making money.

Cutting deals was a bit harder when a member of one party was on a moral crusade.

Liz allowed it this time; she needed a moment to breath anyway.

Primarily, because last night was when they had finally put their hits on a few of the accounts they’d discovered from the ledgers. They had travelled around Europe for a few weeks whilst trying to work out which ones would be best to send the warning and which would be of benefit to hold until stronger ammunition was required. Offense was the smart move, however actually putting themselves out there had left her a little agitated.

Gathering intel was one thing. Shooting a flare was another.

It signalled the beginning of something.

She wasn’t sure if she’d like what that could become.

Dembe waited by the door as she paid. She tried to get across that she also wanted to pay to have it dropped off at the ship; hopefully she had been successful.

“So, do you actually like clothes?” She asked as they left the shop, “Or has the eye just been forced upon you by being with Red for so long?”

“Raymond and I share some opinions on fashion.”

His eyes casually passed over a hat display in the shop next to them.

“Some, we do not.”

Liz clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh, “Please tell me you’re saying you don’t like his fedoras.”

His shoulder raised slightly.

She released a light giggle, “Wow. You can’t have told him this, he would be sniping you all the time – how have you known him for this long and never mentioned it?”

He took her arm and moved her to the side of the street.

She stepped back to look at him, a large grin still beaming, “Okay, okay – just tell me. What is it you don’t like? I mean sure, he has an unhealthy obsession but you know, I think they give him that classic gentleman look.”

Dembe looked down and met her gaze, “His face is too round for the brim.”

That broke her.

She covered her face as she tried to reign in her laughter, she was pretty sure she was currently getting a lot of strange looks.

Taking a few deep breaths, she wiped her eyes and turned to her companion with an affectionate smile, “Dembe – you’re one of my favourite people, you know that right?”

There was a softness in his eyes as he gently inclined his head to her.

“Come on, let’s explore some more,” She took his arm and continued their stroll, “Do you have any suggestions?”

He waited a beat before replying, “Ice cream.”

“Ice cream it is!” She grinned.

They found a cute stall the next street over run by a young girl and got two large cones to take with them.

Liz smirked, pointing a finger at the array of toppings that had been added unprompted to his cone but not hers, “I think there was a bit of favouritism going on there.”

Dembe raised an eyebrow and pulled out one of his flakes to take a bite.

She fondly shook her head, taking a lick of her own topless treat. It was in little moments like this that the strangeness of her situation would hit her. Strolling through a beautiful city, eating ice cream, joking with a friend.

“It’s all a bit crazy isn’t it?”

He looked down to her.

“Just all this,” She gestured to their surroundings, “I mean I’m a fugitive, wanted by the American government, targeted by a criminal organisation, responsible for the death of a number of people. And here I am, window shopping and eating ice cream in Athens like some average tourist taking a break from their normal life.”

It was a thought that had been nibbling at her for a while.

“How do you do it?” Liz murmured, running a hand through her hair, “How do you enjoy all these things knowing that you don’t really deserve them?”

It was mostly rhetorical; she wasn’t really expecting an answer because his situation was different. He had come from a cruel life of war and managed to make something of himself, he deserved to enjoy the good bits. She had her chance and lost it, and was now using a loophole to get it back.

Dembe handed her his cone and gestured to a nearby bench, “I will return.”

Liz gave a small smile; she’d made him uncomfortable. They were having a relaxing afternoon and she’d started psycho-analysing her, and in turn his, life. 

He nodded and headed back in the direction they had come.

Sitting down she took another lick of her ice cream.

It was delicious.

Her friends wouldn’t be eating ice cream right now. They’d be flying around the world after false leads or stressing over intel with officials breathing down their necks and demanding answers.

She had committed a crime and they were suffering the consequences.

The part that hurt the most was that she didn’t know to what extent they blamed her.

Of course, she deserved the blame. She’d decided to pull the trigger.

It was how they viewed her because of that action that she didn’t like to think about.

Did they see her as a murderer? An enemy of the state? Did they think she had been justified? That the Cabal were the only ones at fault?

Liz couldn’t say which opinion she would want them to think.

She did know one thing.

They would hate her if they knew how much she was enjoying this new life.

Which was why she was struggling to not hate that part of herself.

Liz watched the passers-by as the thoughts continued to swirl around her mind.

Two children were poking their heads out from behind a tree, giggling and hiding when an elderly man sitting outside a café opposite flicked the top of his newspaper away from his face. Each time pulling a different expression. Their delighted screeches fluttered over the peaceful ambience.

A smile pulled at her lips, followed by a soft chuckle, as the little boys jumped out and pulled their own funny faces back at the man.

The click of a camera sounded.

Her head snapped around to the noise, fearing she’d been recognised.

However, it was Dembe, standing in front of her lowering a polaroid camera. He took the photo sliding out of the front and gave it a light shake.

Liz frowned as he came over and sat next to her. He handed her the photo.

It was strange, seeing herself from an outside perspective. She looked relaxed, happy. Her face was lit with fond affection as she looked to the side where the children were. A normal woman enjoying a warm afternoon.

Dembe pointed to the photo, “This woman, she looks happy?”

Liz gave a slight nod. Not sure where he was going with this.

“Would you go to her and tell her she is not worthy of that feeling?”

She bit her lip and glanced to him, “It’s not that simple.”

Dembe linked his hands together on his lap. His thumb twitched towards the faint scar on his wrist from the Cayman incident.

“The world, it is not simple. We do bad and we do good. We cause hurt and we offer healing. Our actions are justified by individual perspective.”

He took the photo and held it up, “In this, what does it achieve to tell this woman that she should not smile.”

She sighed, “Even if she’s a bad person?”

Dembe gave her back the photo, and then placed the camera on her lap and put her hands over it.

“If you think you are a bad person,” His tone was stern but there was a softness in his eyes, “Then you are not as bad as you believe.”

Liz didn’t reply.

She handed him back his cone and rested her head against his shoulder.

The world wasn’t simple.

And perhaps she didn’t deserve the good parts as a type of balance to the bad.

But he was right, maybe there wasn’t much of a point hating herself for having moments of happiness.

It was something she would try to work on.

* * * *

“John,” Red put down his glass and leant back in his chair, “It fascinates me how each time we have these discussions, you still allow the delusion that I would agree to terms on par with that which you throw men who cower behind children.”

The man sitting to his left, dressed in an outdated DR Congo military uniform, chuckled as he put another piece of steak into his mouth. Red had only met Mobutu on a handful of occasions. His father had only recently begun sending him to Edwards to carry out weapon negotiations, as practice to one day lead their armed force in Central Africa. From what he had seen, the boy had little interest in such matters.

Unfortunately, this was not due to a disgust for being part of a movement that captured children to increase their forces. And instead due to the boy wishing to remain where he could exert power over those living in fear of him.

Mobutu knew he did not hold that ability here so would simply sit and enjoy the food; waiting to sign for more weapons and be on his way.

Red would prefer him to not be present in the first place.

Edwards sighed and poured himself some more whiskey, “Look Ray, we’ve known each other a long time and I know how many clients you’ve used me to conduct business for, but right now – you’ve got heat on you partner.”

“Sitting in the same spot on our country’s wanted list as I have for the past twenty-five years?” Red raised an eyebrow, “Yes, they’re practically at my door.”

“Oh come on, you know what I’m talking about!” Edwards grumbled, he gestured to the table’s other two occupants, “Even these guys know about the mess you’re in and they couldn’t care less about our Western news.”

Mobutu looked up with a smirk, “It is true, I never listen to your West and still I hear all about Reddington and his Russian.”

The woman sat across the table, who had not touched any of her food and had instead spent the time glaring at her fellow countryman, scoffed, “Because you are too busy murdering and enslaving our people to learn of things.”

Unlike Mobutu, Kapia was dressed in a current DR Congo military uniform. Specifically, one that signalled her place in a branch of government force that was fighting to erase the use of child soldiers in her country. There were very few people who knew that she came to such places to find weapons for her cause. Yet, she was smart enough to know that if their enemies had access to these items then it was foolish to not even the field.

Red had been the one to introduce her to Edwards.

A small way to try and ease the sickening each time he had to see other customers of his colleague who he would rather give a bullet than share a meal.

“Okay, okay, let’s ease up,” Edwards raised his hands, “We’re talking about Ray here, and that’s the thing partner. You sticking like glue to this Russian girl plus this whole Cabal mess on top, I got to raise my prices. I mean, your clients will understand that.”

Red tilted his head, “They will understand when I purchase their goods from another seller who doesn’t wish to rob them off their funds.”

The man laughed and shook his head, wiping his napkin over his mouth, “Alright, alright, look,” He leant forward and rested his hands on the table, “The thing is Ray. I’d be happy to sign off at our usual rate and get all this done so we can just enjoy the rest of our time. And from where I’m looking, the only issue is your girl.”

Edwards shrugged, “How about this, you ease off from her a bit – get seen not working together for a month or two, run off and get your freedom back for a short time. Then the heat follows her, you’re clear again for a while and we’re all square.”

Red held the man’s gaze. His finger lightly tapping against the base of his wine glass.

The light scraping of cutlery continued next to him.

The moment held for a few seconds.

Just as Edwards went to open his mouth the tapping stopped.

“Our original deal John.” Red stated, an edge to his tone that had not previously been there.

The Texan groaned, “Come on! What difference does it make? I’m not saying cut her loose, I know you stick out your agreements. Just help her from afar for a bit – I know you can do that.”

Red took a sip of his wine. Prolonging the attempt to conjure an acceptable answer.

The issue was, under normal circumstances John was being entirely reasonable. Usually, if he had offered his services to help a criminal avoid their pursuers and it was beginning to impact his other business, he would step away for a while. Fulfil his agreement whilst portraying the belief that he was no longer actively involved. He would never so publicly align himself with such a high-profile case.

It was, however, not a normal circumstance.

Parting from Lizzie was not an option.

Red tilted his head with a sharp smile, “I wasn’t aware you held such insights into how I conduct matters.”

Edwards leant back slightly, recognising he was starting to wobble on a thin edge, “Ray, we’ve known each other for a long time. I know you, and this isn’t just about the deal. We both know you’ve been here before –“

“Think carefully John.”

Red’s fingers slowly caressed the knife next to his plate as the words cut through.

His colleague swallowed, “I just mean, perhaps you need a little outside perspective.”

“No,” Red replied slowly, “What I need, are the weapons promised to my clients.”

“Alright, alright partner, how about this?” Edwards smile had taken on a hardened edge, “Fifteen percent above our usual.”

The knife twirled on its point under his finger.

“I can’t go lower Ray, I can’t – not unless you cut the girl.”

“For a man who knows me so well, you forget how little I tolerate demands.”

“Sure, unless it’s a pretty Russian making them.”

Edwards winched as the words left his mouth.

Red’s hand clenched around the handle.

Another voice, muffled through half-chewed pieces of meat, suddenly threw in.

“Eh, so you get a new bitch for a few months, what is the problem?”

Mobutu screamed, choking on those pieces of meat as a knife stabbed through the middle of his hand that was lying on the table.

Red pressed down on the handle as he turned to the man, causing another manic cry, and spoke with a calm steady voice, “You are not part of this conversation.”

Across the table, Kapia picked up her cutlery and took a bite of her steak.

Red turned back to his old colleague, ignoring Mobutu clawing at his hand trying to push it away, “John, due to our long history, I will accept your offer of _five_ percent above our usual agreement on this sole occasion.”

Edwards eyes briefly flicked to the pool of blood that was beginning to soak into the tablecloth. There was a tick in his jaw as he looked back to Red, his tongue running along the back of his teeth as he fought the urge to keep pushing. After all these years, one thing he had learnt was to spot the difference between the man’s façade of anger and the real thing.

“Alright partner,” He nodded, “Five percent above.”

Red inclined his head in return and pulled the knife out in one swift motion, wiping it clean with his napkin.

Mobutu screamed and snatched his hand to his chest as he jumped to his feet, causing his chair to crash to the floor. His face tightened in rage, “How dare you do this to me! I am a warrior! I have brought more weapons than you could dream of old man!”

Red placed the knife back into its original position, “If that concludes all party’s business, I believe we may now be free of one another’s company.” He signalled for some more wine without sparing a look to the man next to him.

Mobutu growled and stepped forward but Edwards quickly stood, “Hey friend, come on – it’s just a little hot blood. How about you go back to your suite and I’ll send over one of our lovely masseuses to get you relaxed again?”

The soldier looked to him, his teeth were bared but he didn’t make a move.

“And I think we can get another crate of the R-2s put into your order.” Edwards clapped a hand on his shoulder, gesturing him towards the door, “What do you say partner?”

Mobutu clicked his tongue and shrugged off the hand, “Fine, but I do not see him in any future meetings!”

“A wish shared by many,” Edwards laughed whilst throwing a sharp glare to his colleague as he escorted the man to the door.

The corner of Red’s mouth curved up as he took an unconcerned sip of his wine.

Seemingly unconcerned, internally he was considering the means he could take to ensure Mobutu did not successfully complete his return journey.

He met Kapia’s gaze from across the table. Her eyes briefly directed towards the door Mobutu had almost stepped through and then returned to him with a slight raise of her eyebrow. A silent question.

Red lowered his head an inch.

Gracefully, the soldier stood and spoke with a tone of disinterest that indicated she did not care if she was heard or not, “I will return to my cabin. I will not be disturbed until we make next port.”

Without a spare glance to any of the men she left through the second door.

Kapia had clearly wished to part the world of Mobutu from the moment she met him, however the consequences that would come to due to that action required benefits exceeding that of simply the man’s death.

Most likely, she had been waiting for him to provide such an opportunity.

He would ensure funds were wired that evening.

“I’m putting that extra crate on your bill!” Edwards huffed. He muttered a curse and walked over to swig back the remains of his whiskey, “I mean, I knew you were close to this girl but goodness sake – I’ve never seen you like that before.”

Red tilted his head, “I do not allow myself to be insulted, that is all.”

“No, no,” He pointed a finger, “He insulted Masha –“

“Elizabeth.”

Edwards sighed, “Fine, Liz – not you. That was baseline petty rage pure and simple. You’re getting in too deep again partner, I thought it when I started seeing the news reports but now I know for sure.”

“I came here for weapons, not mediocre therapy.”

“I’m just saying, if you weren’t all clouded up, you would see that this girl has only brought you trouble from the very beginning!”

The door behind Edwards opened and Red stood up, a large grin spreading over his face, “Lizzie!” He quickly pushed his plate over the bloodstain as he stepped around to greet her, “Sweetheart, how was your afternoon? I trust it was much more rewarding than my own.”

He ignored Edwards slight scoff and eye roll.

Liz raised an eyebrow and glanced around the room, “It was fine… why do I feel like we’ve just walked into the middle of something?”

Behind her, Dembe was assessing him with a similar, though less obvious, look.

Having a close circle that was on par with his own levels of observation did have its downfalls.

Red smiled, “Just some slight unforeseen negotiations.”

Edwards also stood, placing his hands in his pockets and stepping over to Liz, “Actually, I was making the point that you two running around together still is creating a lot more heat than if you simply kept low separately.”

It seemed the man felt that her presence meant he had the freedom to keep speaking on the topic.

Liz nodded, a slight look of amusement on her face, “Really?” She walked into the room, patting Edwards on the arm as she passed him, “And that has to do with weapons, how exactly?”

Dembe moved to his side, his eyes briefly wandering to the plate he had moved as they had entered.

“You have a global criminal enterprise on you!” Edwards blared, looking between them like he had no idea how he was the only one thinking this, “Not to mention the entirety of the FBI – I mean for goodness sake the president’s National Security Advisor has stepped onto the scene!”

Red’s attention snapped at those words and he saw the reaction mirrored in Liz.

“What did you say?” She asked.

Edwards glanced to him, “You didn’t know?”

Red leant towards Dembe and turned his head to whisper, “Is that true?”

Dembe’s lips barely moved, “I do not know. Our informant for the taskforce has not been in contact for three days.”

Red clenched his teeth. The past few months various unlinked informants or associates had been slipping off the radar. He had not had the time to get it looked into and had been hoping it was simply cautious actions due to the Cabal’s attention.

It seemed more purposeful motives were in play.

Edwards frowned, “Huh – well yeah, one of my guys in her office said she’d started working with them this morning. Given them some guys name who she believes is a Cabal member hunting down your people. Solomon I think it was.”

There was his answer.

A formidable move on Laurel’s part as well, offering her own man for entry into the inner circle.

Solomon was so loyal to the cause he’d most likely let her kill him if he believed it would be beneficial.

Liz gaped, worry and anger washing over her face, “She’s working with the taskforce? We’ve got to tell them – they’re in danger!”

Red rushed forward and slipped a hand around her wrist as she grabbed her phone, “I do not think that is wise.”

She snatched her arm away, “You know what Connelly threatened and he was nowhere near the levels she is!”

“Precisely,” He murmured, “Right now, she is there for information on us. There is no reason for her to see any of the team as a threat as they have no knowledge of her true identity. All they know of her is that she is the woman who waved through Harold’s clearance to return to duty.”

His informant had been of some use before his likely death.

“However, if we were to inform them of her Cabal links. I would only place trust in Agent Navidi to not raise Laurel’s suspicions. And if she became the slightest bit suspicious, then the team _would_ be in danger. Furthermore, she could easily re-assign our case to a taskforce made up of Cabal operatives and then the manhunt would only consist of law enforcement who wish to see us dead.”

Red could see the logic winning over her worry for her friends.

She placed her hand back over his and gave it a light squeeze. An admittance that although she did not like it, she understood that for the moment it was best to let the situation play out.

He would have to ensure he got new eyes on the taskforce immediately.

A groan sounded behind them.

“Oh for goodness sake Ray! I tell you the president’s own security advisor, who apparently – is also a big Cabal player - has thrown her hat in and you’re just all easy days, nothing to worry about here!” He pushed the palms of his hands against his eyes.

Red turned around, “There are considerations to take –“

“No there aren’t!” He snapped, “This is just the same story as before –“

“John –“

“You commit to a cause that’s doomed to fail –“

“John do not –“

“You don’t step away even when you know it’s going south –“

“I warn you –“

“And worst off it’s all centred around a Rostova yet again!”

A sharp intake of breath cut through him from behind.

Red closed his eyes as a tense silence fell.

The hand that had still been in his flinched back as if burnt.

There was a quiet curse from Edwards, “Dammit, I didn’t mean to say that.”

Red slowly turned to her, “Lizzie –“

She sharply raised a finger. Her gaze boring into his own with a cold fire. With an eerie calmness, she slowly pointed to Edwards.

“What do _you_ know of a previous Rostova?” Her tone sliced through the air.

The man scratched his head and threw a glance to Red, “Look, I shouldn’t have –“

“Don’t look at him.”

He jumped and met her gaze. Swallowing, he raised his hands in defence, “Alright, look. I’ve stepped on something I shouldn’t have here. All I was meaning is that Ray got into this kind of mess when he was trying to help out you and your mother. She was mixed up between a KGB husband and a CIA lover and anyone could see trying to get two people out of that situation just wasn’t going to end well.”

Edwards shrugged, “And honestly, I don’t see how your situation now is going to end any better.”

Red didn’t look away from Liz as she heard a new small part of her story. He had known he would have an undetermined time limit when he brought her here.

The frustrating element was that Edwards knowledge of their connected past was why he had chosen this route. It had been nearing a month since he had divulged the most minor insight into her childhood and since then, since her surprising lack of demanding further information, it had been playing on his mind the need to tell her more.

The desire to see that small delight at him willingly sharing her story.

And more so, he had come to realise that it was information that she did have a right to. Regardless of whether he felt it would hurt her.

Which was a struggle for him.

Hence, how this event had occurred.

Slowly her eyes drew back to his.

They did not convey what was going through her head.

He waited for her to say something. To accuse him of letting her down. To shout that she had generously given him time to broach the topic again.

She did not say anything.

Instead, she indicated her head to the door and silently left.

There was not even the indulgence of a slam.

Red pursed his lips and glanced to Dembe.

The expression he read confirmed his thoughts.

He was about to suffer a tremendous verbal beating.

Edwards was still stood there in his hard-truths stance; although there was a slight guilt present in his eyes.

Red shot him a fierce glare, “You are very fortunate that I was planning on sharing that information eventually.”

“I assumed that was the case seeing as I don’t have a knife in any part of my body.”

He huffed and waved a dismissive hand. The man never ceased to infuriate him.

Which was partly why they had such a long-standing form of friendship.

“I think it’d be best if we set sail once more,” Red picked up an un-opened bottle of wine from the side table as he followed the path Liz had taken.

“Less people to hear you getting torn into?” Edwards chuckled, trying to ease the conversations end, “What have I been saying partner, women, hey?”

Red paused by the door, “No John,” His tone was stern, “A woman who is rightly upset over an incident that is entirely due to the ego and cowardice of a man.”

He stepped out onto the deck and closed the door behind him.

Time had grown weary of his wait to divulge a past that had only ever partly belonged to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dembe is such a sweetheart and as you can see Red still has that dangerous crazed side to him.
> 
> Also I very much liked Laurel as the big Cabal player, but as you can see, this time she's not going to be giving herself away too easily.
> 
> The next one will big the good old revealing of the past chapter! 
> 
> Obviously bear in mind this is an AU from the end of Season 2 so though there may be one or two familiar elements, for the most part I'm going with something that fits into the established stuff she knew and Red had promised her was the truth in those earlier times. 
> 
> Also a given there will have been no romantic hint between him and Katarina back then; I'm just not a fan of that mess of a situation. 
> 
> But hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you thought :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truths are revealed.

Unbelievable.

It was just unbelievable. There she’d been all this time thinking if she just left it, he’d open up. If she didn’t push, he’d prove to her that he had actually started to respect her. One childhood story and a few lines of revelation and she had believed that it had actually signalled some kind of turning point. Believed enough to let a month go by without bringing it up.

This is what she got for thinking she could trust him to be truthful.

Hearing more about her parents from a weapons dealer she’d just met than a man who apparently cared for her.

Fine, did care for her.

Yet cared for her in a way that didn’t seem to extend to viewing her as her own person. As someone who wasn’t his to say what she could or could not know. What she could or could not handle.

Someone who was not his to control.

An enraged scream tore across the bedroom alongside the smash of a vase against the wall.

Liz grabbed her hair and crouched to the floor, a pent-up anger storming through her body.

It hurt. It hurt that she had apparently been reduced back to his little doll to hide away. It made her angry. Brought back that frustration and agitation that underlay their original relationship. But mostly, it just hurt.

Just when she had begun to see him differently. Started to think that maybe…

It didn’t matter.

She unclenched her fingers and allowed herself one more sharp shout. Then she stood, took a deep breath and grabbed the wastebasket.

There was no need for evidence of her moment.

Just as Liz placed the last piece of the vase into the trash, there was a light knock at the door.

At least he had an awareness that he had done something wrong if he was actually requesting entry.

She grabbed a notepad and pen off the nightstand and took a seat at the small table facing the door.

A few seconds passed.

Liz didn’t look up from the notes she had begun writing as the door creaked open.

“I come in good faith,” Red slowly stepped into the bedroom, a bottle of wine raised in one hand.

His eyes went to the pen between her fingers and his other hand rose, “May I request we keep matters civil whilst I explain?”

Liz’s gaze briefly cut through him, a cold mockery of a smile on her lips, then returned to the paper, “Don’t worry – I just thought it would be wise to write down the new information. It seems I’ll only be learning things from random people who can’t keep their mouths shut, so guess I’d better get the pieces down now. Then I can tie them all together in a few years.”

Red gave a slight nod, unsurprised by the response, and shut the door. He placed the bottle on the table and hovered next to her; seeming uncharacteristically unsure of how to broach the conversation.

Pursing his lips, he cleared his throat and lightly touched her shoulder, “Lizzie –“

The wave of anger crashed back.

Screw dignified fury.

“Don’t!” She snapped, shoving herself away from the table and swinging around, “I don’t need to hear the same lines. I get it. I shouldn’t have been so naïve to think you actually held some kind of respect for me – message received.”

He recoiled as if struck, “Don’t respect -?” His eyes widened in confusion, “Lizzie, I hold you of all people in the highest respect.”

A scornful laugh burst out, “We must have very different definitions of the word.”

Liz grabbed a glass from the sideboard and splashed some of the wine into it. She took a large swig.

Red went to step forward but froze at the sharp glare he received.

He held out a hand, “I understand that it was not ideal to hear more of your past life from John –“

“You are unbelievable!” Liz hissed, stabbing a finger at him, “What I _learnt_ isn’t the issue here.” She slammed the glass down and ran a hand through her hair, “The _issue_, is something that I should have asked years ago and for the life of me have no idea how I’ve let myself get this far without having done so.”

Red frowned and tilted his head, “Forgive me, am I supposed to know what that issue is?”

She scoffed, “Maybe – but I wasn’t expecting anything so don’t worry.”

“So there is another matter at hand?”

“Okay, now I’m really wanting to punch you.”

“Lizzie,” He sighed, spreading out his hands, “If you have a question, ask it of me.”

“Fine.” She spat, turning to him with a clenched jaw and a blaze in her eyes, “Here’s your question – how do you view me?”

He blinked.

“View you?”

Liz crossed her arms, “Yes Red – because at this point, I need to know when you look at me, what do you actually see?”

His eyes flicked over her form.

Before he could answer, she continued, caught in her own spiral of thoughts rather than looking for his, “It’s the thing everyone wouldn’t stop going on about when you first arrived! And I just wanted them all to shut up and stop looking to me for answers so I just ended up pushing aside the question for myself too. And now here I am – apparently still stuck in the same place I was back then. Not knowing why on earth I’m here. And most of all, why you’re here!”

Her words began to fall over one another and her hands gestured wildly as she paced up and down the length of the room.

“Am I just an old promise? Some physical embodiment of an agreement you once made? A girl that you once protected and just don’t know how to stop? A means to an end in your crusade against the Cabal? A gloat that you managed to turn an FBI agent into one of the country’s most wanted?”

She scoffed, “Or maybe it’s one of the other hundreds of things I’ve run through my head for the past two years! I’ve had enough time with barely any information to whip up some great ones. Some are really out there – you’d probably get a good kick out of them.”

Liz turned on her heel and pointed a finger at him, “But you see the thing is, if any of my more feasible theories are even a little bit true – that’s where we have a big problem.”

Her anger had merged into a piercing determination. The fury still lay in her voice; however, it was no longer tinged with hurt, but instead with a promise of finality.

“Because all _those_ ideas. The one thing they all have in common is they come from the suggestion that all I am, is someone who is relevant to you. That I’m a person who is a piece in _your_ life and therefore you have every right to decide what I do, where I should go and what I should know.”

She clenched her jaw and glanced up to the ceiling, “I already discovered that I was a pawn in someone else’s life. I’m not going to let myself continue down a path where it happens again.”

There was a short screech of a chair against the floor. Liz looked down to see Red’s knuckles white with a shaking grip on the item. A reaction to the unspoken name viewable in the ridged tension throughout his body.

She folded her arms and stared at him. His head was turned away from her; as usual wanting to hide whatever was going through his mind. A moment passed before he released a long breath and met her gaze.

The sheen of water in his eyes startled her.

That wasn’t the neutral expression she had become so familiar with in these types of conversations over the years.

She could actually read the hurt on his face.

Red straightened and placed his hands behind his back.

“It was never my intent to make you ponder or believe any of those ideas,” His voice was soft, “I give you my word, I do not see you in those ways or in any resembling forms.”

With his sincerity, her anger dimmed a little. However, where it had come from was still festering and she hadn’t realised how much this was something she’d wanted to get clarity on until now.

Liz sighed, “It may have not been your intent. But can you really deny that it’s not what you’ve done since you gave yourself in?”

He broke their eye contact and took a seat in the chair; his fingers reached out to fiddle with the stem of the wine glass on the table.

The next words came as a breath, “You did not deserve more hurt in your life.”

“That was never your decision to make.”

Red clicked his tongue and poured some wine into the glass, “So what would you have had me done? Let you wander blindly until one day an organisation you knew nothing of captured and tortured you to discover information you had no idea you held? Have you continue living with a man unaware he could take orders to kill you any moment?”

Liz threw her hands up, “What are you talking about? Those things happened even though you decided to come along – because you never told me anything!”

“As I have previously said, at the time you would not have believed me.”

“You never gave me that choice.”

“I was trying to allow you as much of a normal life as situations could give. Is that not what you would repeatedly say you wished for during our early acquaintance?”

“See, right there – to allow me. That’s what I’m referring to.”

“Lizzie, it is a matter of speech.”

“No, it’s the truth. During those times you had to control everything I was doing.”

“I understand that it may have seemed overly so –“

“Don’t try it.”

Red sighed and turned to look up at her, “Very well.” He tilted his head, “I will admit, I may have been – overzealous, in my efforts to try and keep truths of your past life and its ramifications unknown.”

He stood up and took a step towards her; this time, she did not move away, “It has not escaped my notice however, that you have been referring to these matters in a past tense.”

Liz raised her chin and matched his step forward, “That’s because, up until your friend’s slip - I thought it was in the past.”

He let out a huff of air, “It was supposed to be.”

“What?”

Liz blinked a couple of times, small lines creasing on her forehead.

He offered a humourless smile and stepped back to pick up the glass of wine, “John’s awareness of your history was actually the primary reason I chose to bring us here. Evidently, it didn’t quite go as planned.”

“You’re saying you _wanted_ me to find out information from him?”

“Well, not him directly – I had hoped a more opportune moment for me to breach the topic with him as an entry point. A mention of having known him through my years in the navy perhaps, specifically the ones during my more classified period.”

Liz’s mouth slightly parted; the situation was beginning to confuse her, “You’re telling me – that you, Raymond Reddington, set up a scenario in the hope not to deceive me but to instead enlighten me?”

“That is what I said, do try to keep up sweetheart.”

A small laugh of disbelief burst out; her anger fading into the background. This was not the usual route for these conversations.

She moved past him to slump down into the chair, “You’ve basically just agreed with me on two issues I’ve brought up. I’m not really sure what to do now – this is uncharted waters for me.”

Red handed her the glass and fetched another, “If it gives you comfort, we are on the same boat.”

She smirked, “Literally or metaphorically?”

“There is no need to delve to poor humour.”

Liz took a sip of her wine and leant back, “But why?”

“Because you are above it.”

She threw a half-hearted scowl, “You know what I mean – why now? Why this sudden realisation that I deserve to know more about my own life? And willingness to actually do it?”

Red perched on the edge of the table, turned away from her and instead looking to the painting on the opposite wall. She edged her chair nearer and rested her chin in one hand.

“It may surprise you, but the morning I strolled into the FBI’s headquarters it had not been an item on my schedule.” He swirled the glass in his hand, eyes roaming the painting, “I had woken in a beautiful skyrise apartment, taken breakfast on the balcony whilst re-reading a delightful Agatha Christie novel and that afternoon, in fact had a flight in place to take me to an opera concert in Vienna.”

He took a sip, “However, as I was contemplating whether to go for a light morning stroll once I had eaten, Dembe arrived with news. The man who I used to have check on you on occasion had come by with his update, and with it, the information that you had begun meetings with an adoption agency.”

Liz blinked and straightened up.

“In that moment, I was thrown back to a time when a woman had let a child enter a game between three people who primarily only existed for the will of their respective governments. Where two relationships had formed through deceit and manipulation, and although some unhealthy type of love had grown in both, there was no truth to them.”

He rose and stepped closer to examine the painting, “I knew Tom could not be trusted. I knew that eventually it would have to all end in pain and rage. The idea that another child was to end up in that type of situation…”

A breath of air left his mouth, “I just didn’t want to see it again.”

He shrugged and turned to look at her, “So I found myself entering into your life, something I had sworn to never do. I had not fully scoped exactly what my approach would be once you knew of me; that I finalised during those early months. I simply knew I had to delay the topic of adoption. So, I adjusted my plans in regards to my continued fight against the Cabal to include your involvement and there we were.”

Liz remained still, her eyes silently following him as he walked over and took a seat opposite her. He crossed his legs, one arm lain over the back of the chair.

“As I said, during our time as agent and informant I am aware that there were a few times in which I overstepped levels of control in regards to my interactions with you. There are many that I fully stand by. However, in hindsight, I see how there were some that were not my right.”

Words returned to her and she raised an eyebrow, “Some?”

He waved a hand at her, “Lizzie, you must understand it was all very new for me. For so many years you had been news updates, letters from Sam, a portion of my funds. You were like a comforting story to read at night. A familiarity that was held at a distance. The only manner in which I had participated in your life was as a silent benefactor whenever Sam required help. It was only once you made the decision to join the bureau that my involvement increased, and only then through hiring a few people to keep tabs on you.”

He sighed and leant forward, linking his hands and resting them on the table.

“When I first met you again, as a person I had never met before; those where the only experiences I knew. It was a struggle to balance learning who you were with the image that I had been given from others. To suddenly have a concept that for so long had been a task - a person who I moved pieces around - become an actual individual who was so much more than just words on paper…”

He shrugged, “It took some time to adjust.”

Liz tapped her fingers against the wood, her head tilted as her eyes scanned his face. It was a bit disconcerting hearing his side of that day. She’d always just assumed it was part of a grand plan that had been in play for years. Not an action on a whim based off emotions.

She frowned but gave a light nod, “Okay, fine. I understand your point. Don’t necessarily agree with it all. But I get where you’re coming from. And in regards to the whole adoption thing - you _definitely_ could have gone about that in a much better way,” Her voice softened and she placed two fingers on top of his hands, “But I appreciate you looking out for a child that I didn’t even know.”

He inclined his head with a tender smile.

“However,” She continued, drawing back her hand and crossing her arms, “None of that answered my question in regards to right now. These past four months you’ve been different. I mean, it’s been great – the most relaxed I’ve ever felt around you. But it is weird. Like just now, you say you took us on a travel route so you could try and tell me things rather than hiding them? Why this sudden willingness to share?”

Red leant back, widening the space between them, “It is… complicated.”

“You’re pretty good at complicated.”

The corner of his mouth curled up, “Indeed.” He picked a piece of lint off his shirt, “Very well, if I were to attempt to explain, it would be that when our time on this venture began - I met you again for the first time.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You seem to be meeting me a lot.”

“You’re quite the woman to meet.”

Red’s gaze broke away at those words, leaving her to try and examine his expression. If she didn’t know better, she would claim he looked nervous.

“The boundaries and limitations put in place by your profession had gone. You had stepped into a new world and I will admit I foolishly had worries that it would be a struggle in which you would need guiding.” A fond smile drew across his face, “And then you waltzed into the room with invitations to a criminal gathering that I had told you nothing of.”

He looked to the room, staring at nothing in particular as his voice fell to a gentle hum, “You have thrived here. I have watched, mesmerised, as you have walked a path I once did and carved it into your own with no thought of what I or anyone else thinks. I have always known you to be special. When I met you two years ago it was confirmed to me. But now… seeing you, knowing if I wanted –“

He blinked and cut himself off, as if regaining an awareness that he had been speaking aloud.

Liz had not moved, “Wanted what?”

His eyes flicked to her.

It was only for a second but it was enough.

She forced down a sharp breath, digging her fingers into her arms to try and show no outward reaction.

Because what she saw in them was pretty hard to mistake.

It was something she had seen brief moments of before, but never enough to not doubt what was there.

It was love.

More than that, it was the look of a man _in_ love.

Liz didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to process that. How did that make her feel? What did she feel? No, she didn’t want to think about that. She wasn’t ready to touch that landmine.

She could feel her heart racing.

Red’s gaze broke away. He coughed and shifted in his seat; his voice merging into its usual bravo and his eyes returning to her with no evidence of repressed emotion, “I came to realise that we are very much partners in this venture.”

He had no idea that he had let his guard slip for one short moment.

That she had seen a truth that he definitely wanted to remain hidden.

“And to be true partners, we must be equals,” He continued, “Which means overcoming my habits and sharing information that is as much yours as it is mine, regardless of my desire to not see you hurt.”

Liz made herself nod.

This was becoming way too much information to handle all in one go.

Stay calm, just breath, sort it all out later.

She must have truly mastered her poker face because Red showed no signs of noticing any of the turmoil swirling inside her.

“I need to fetch something,” He tapped the table and stood, walking over to the door that connected to his own cabin.

When he disappeared from view Liz released a sharp breath, slumping into her chair. She ran a hand through her hair and grabbed her glass of wine, chugging the remaining liquid. Her gaze flicked to the second glass then she drank the rest of that too.

Standing up she circled the floor in one spot, taking deep breaths as she allowed herself one minute to push what she had just seen to the back of her mind. Now wasn’t the time for working out emotions. There were too many more important things.

Less confusing things.

The pad of footsteps indicated his return and she automatically sat down on the nearest surface.

Which happened to be the edge of her bed.

Of course.

Red came back into the room with a battered file in his hand. He didn’t seem concerned by her movement and simply walked over to sit on the bed a small distance from her; placing the file in between them, “This will tell you all that I know of your past.” He looked at her, that familiar gentle gleam in his eyes, “If you prefer, I can tell you through my own words and you can read this at a later time. Or if you wish to be left to learn of the story in private, I can leave.”

Liz stared at him, then looked down to the file.

It was there. The truth about her past, her parents. Answers to questions she had always wanted.

All other thoughts fled from her mind.

What was going to be in it? Was it going to make her feel better or worse? Now that it was actually an option, did she even want to know?

She looked back to the man next to her; patiently waiting for her answer. Ready to do whatever she requested.

A man who despite all his flaws, did truly care for her. Who cared enough to try and become better in how he showed it. Cared enough to push past his established traits and let go of the need to be in control of everything in his life.

And if she was correct and that care ran deeper, to a place that she was not quite ready to contemplate yet.

Well in this moment, it made no difference.

She wanted to learn about her past and she knew that she couldn’t bring herself to do that alone.

Liz smiled and shook her head, pushing the file to the side and bringing her feet up to sit cross-legged facing him, “How could I deny you the opportunity to tell a story?”

Red did not return the smile, “This is one that I take no pleasure in reliving,” He reached out and took her hand, “I will keep to my word and hold nothing back, but you must know – this will give you no comfort.”

Her chest tightened and she took a breath, closing her eyes for a few seconds.

It was always better to have facts than be tortured with uncertainty.

She opened her eyes and linked her fingers through his, giving him a final nod, “Just tell me.”

Red inclined his head and shifted so he was better facing her. His knee resting against her folded legs; their connected hands resting on her lap.

“The name Katarina Rostova was first known to me as a myth,” His voice transformed into its narrative tone, as if telling an average tale, “Heard over my years working as an undercover operative. Allying myself with enemies of the state through the ruse that I was of their beliefs and working against the government through my position in the navy. The name would be thrown around from time to time. Specifically, when I tried to gain information on Russian intelligence. It was used to cast blame on why intel informants gave me became void or given as an excuse as to why they did not wish to go further with our acquaintance. For a long time, I could not tell if this person did exist or if it was just a persona our Russian friends had invented to cause confusion.”

“My answer came one day by the appearance of the woman herself at my door.” He pursed his lips, “I will admit it was quite a blow to my ego that a KGB agent appeared with the full knowledge of both my true identity and my cover one.”

“In my criminal persona I had already gathered quite a reputation for being able to assist in difficult matters and provide solutions that others could not. Then, with her awareness of my legitimate ties to the American government as well, I was the perfect candidate for a matter that she needed help with.”

“It took me time to learn all the facts as she was not one for sharing, but I managed to piece together the story. Katarina had been working on a fellow KGB agent for years, to the point in which they were married and he fully believed they were the tale of two agents who had managed to find love. In truth, it was his connections to high powers in the Kremlin that had drawn her in. Three years after this marriage she had found an opportunity to lure a young CIA agent under her charm. That relationship had been going for two years when she came to me. A child had been born, both men believing themselves to be the father yet neither knowing of the other man’s existence. Quite simply, she had grown conflicted with the idea of raising the child in her tangle of manipulations and claimed she wished to disappear with her.”

He let out a humourless chuckle, “I say claim, because it only took me six months to form an undetectable plan to ensure two seemingly natural deaths as cover for a new life. Yet it was another two years before the night she finally sent word that she was ready to follow through. I cannot be certain why it took this length of time. Perhaps she had pieces in play that she could not bring herself to abandon. Perhaps her feelings for these men were stronger than she cared to admit. It was of no consequence to me; I was ready to put the plan into motion at her beckoning.”

Red squeezed her hand, “That night was the first time I met you.”

“I was waiting at the designated meeting point. Time passed and I grew concerned. Once an hour had gone by, I knew something must be amiss. I had made it clear not to make any detours and to under no circumstance go to her home. Katarina swore her husband was overseas but I knew it was not a risk to take. When she did not arrive, it was my first guess to her location.”

“As I pulled up, I could immediately hear raised voices coming from the house. I snuck in through a back door and made my way to the sounds.”

Liz closed her eyes. Her hands began to tremble.

Flashes of images hit her. Memories that had been viciously dragged out in an abandoned pool that her mind had forced back down. That had grasped for the surface when she had pulled that trigger. They began to fight to crawl back out once more.

_“Where are you going?”_

_“I’m taking Masha on a trip for the weekend.”_

“Her husband had clearly been suspicious and was in fact, not overseas. He was angry over an agreement he thought she was trying to back out of.”

_“She has been hand selected for the program; she will become one of our homeland’s finest comrades.”_

_“I know that, but we still have a few months before we have to send her.”_

“The argument grew more violent. I glanced into the room to try and see if there was a child with her but I could only see the two of them.”

_Мама_ _ and Папа were shouting. She cuddled bunny to her chest, hiding her head between her arms. Why were they shouting?_

“There was the sound of another car pulling up and the young CIA agent burst in calling out for her. She must have gone to see him before she left and had carelessly left a trail for him to follow. I suspected her feelings towards him were more pronounced. At first, he thought she was in trouble but quickly realised there were truths he had not been aware of.”

_She heard Дядя Peter. He wasn’t allowed here. He was her and Мама’s secret. She looked through the crack in the closet door. Папа and Дядя Peter were pushing each other._

The memory of smoke started to fill Liz’s nostrils.

“Fighting began and a naked flame fell against the curtains during it all. None of them seemed to notice at first. I slipped down the corridor and started to search for where her child could be hiding.”

_They wouldn’t stop shouting. Дядя Peter was hurting Папа. She picked up the heavy toy Папа said would protect her when people were being bad. She opened the closet door and walked down the corridor. Bunny came with her._

“I found you too late.”

There was the echo of a shot in her ears.

_Дядя Peter _ _fell on the floor. The toy smelt really bad. Мама screamed and was hugging Дядя Peter. She went over to say sorry and Папа tried to pick her up but Мама grabbed her._

“I ran back to the room. The CIA agent could not be helped. Katarina was crying but clinging to you, refusing to let her husband take you. By now, the fire had spread rapidly and the whole place was nearly aflame. I rushed forward and tried to force him away. I had the element of surprise but he was a highly skilled agent. There was a struggle and one of my blows sent him falling into the flames.”

There was screaming. So much screaming.

“Katarina cried out and lunged forward to try and reach him through the fire, still with you in her arms. I managed to rip you from her grip and pull you aside as the flames jumped.”

Liz could feel the heat on her scar.

_She screamed. Her wrist really hurt. She was on the floor. Someone was on top of her. They sounded like they were hurting too._

“I took you and ran. I couldn’t look back to check on Katarina. The house was beginning to come down. That was the night I drove you to Sam and asked him to take you in.”

A soft touch grazed the side of her face and Liz opened her eyes. Unshed tears slid down her cheeks.

Red looked at her with a mirrored grief.

His thumb idly stroked the memory on her wrist.

“When I returned to the house, I couldn’t find any evidence of her. Once I got the situation handled it took me a few weeks to track her down.”

He stopped. Conflict with the next part showing on his face.

Her throat felt dry, like she could still taste the smoke.

She swallowed a few times before opening her mouth. The words scratched against her tongue and they came out as a whisper, “What happened?”

Red sighed and broke his gaze, looking down to her hand instead, “I found her clothes and necklace with a picture of you inside by a beach. The next morning her body washed ashore.”

A sob caught in her throat.

“It wasn’t your fault,” He moved nearer and placed a kiss on her head, “I think she had just not realised the complexity of feelings that she had for those two men. She had been alone with all those thoughts. If I had found her sooner…”

Liz grasped his shirt and pressed her face against his neck.

They stayed like that.

His arm gripped around her and hers clinging to him.

Time passed.

An undetermined amount.

Eventually, her breaths evened out once more.

Her whitened knuckles eased their hold.

Liz pulled away slightly to lie down on the bed, tugging gently on his arm to move him with her.

She shuffled so that she could rest her head against his chest. His arm instinctively folded around her and his fingers gently stroked through her hair.

The question came to her as her mind fitted together the story again.

Her voice was soft, there were too many raw emotions running through her to speak any louder, “The man I… the man who was shot. I think - I think I called him Uncle Peter.” She linked her fingers through his free hand, “He was the CIA agent?”

She felt Red nod, “Yes.”

“Before, when I first remembered – I thought it was my father I…” She took a breath, “But you pushed my – her husband into the fire. So, was it actually the CIA agent who was my father?”

Red sighed and pulled her slightly tighter against him. A few moments passed before he answered.

“Katarina never told me which one it was.”

Liz angled her head to look up at him, and waited until he met her gaze.

This was the main reason he had spent so much time trying to hide the story.

“So, the truth is,” She murmured, her eyes locked onto his, “Either of us could have killed my father.”

The sorrow she saw cried out to her. Sorrow for her pain, sorrow that he couldn’t give answers that eased any suffering of the truth.

Liz slid back down and placed her head back against his chest.

Their relationship, whatever it was and whatever it could become, was never going to be simple.

They were two screwed up individuals.

Forged from pain and deaths that belonged to long-lost identities.

She closed her eyes again. Taking comfort from his presence.

“Seems we’ve been partners for quite a while then.”

That, was the morbid truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not having the history he had tried to keep from her for so long hanging over them was always important to me if this relationship is going to eventually develop into something more. There needs to be trust and an equal standing if that's going to happen - otherwise it would be far from a healthy relationship and Liz has already suffered enough from that kind. 
> 
> And I think it's pretty obvious that Red's feelings were something more from pretty early on. Now she knows, we'll see how that affects their interactions. 
> 
> I worked very hard trying to get the tone of this chapter right; balancing the initial anger, then getting through their footing with one another, leading to the story of her past. Which I hope you enjoyed - like I said, it's just my take on what could have been without the over complicated need to keep adding things for the purpose of filling more and more seasons. I've read lots of other good takes on what her history could have been. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! And thanks for reading :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz delves into the richness of Cairo.

Liz jumped aside as a cart of apples barrelled down the street. The owner didn’t give any apologies to the crowd as he barged through; instead he used his shouts to insult them all for not moving quick enough.

She threw an amused look to the elderly woman who owned the fabric stall she’d bumped into.

Acenath rolled her eyes, “دائما في وقت متأخر من هذا الفتى,” Her fingers didn’t falter as they weaved the mat in front of her.

Liz smiled and ran her hand along a headscarf hanging up to the side; it had an intricate pattern of vines spiralling down the edges, leading to three small birds in flight at the hem.

Every day she came past the stall there was a new scarf on display. Which she suspected wasn’t a coincidence.

Acenath tapped under her eye and then at Liz, “يطابق,” She lifted up the bottom and rubbed it against her hand. It did feel amazing.

The headscarf she was currently wearing came from Acenath, as well as the two others she had back at the hotel. The woman knew when she’d found a profitable mark.

But then she did make the best that she’d seen on her ventures through the many markets in Cairo. Plus, the fact that she made them by hand was astounding, and it gave the benefit of supporting a trade rather than just a big corporation.

Liz chuckled and handed the woman some money, “شكرا لك.” That was about the extent of her Egyptian Arabic; it was pretty similar to MSA Arabic, which she knew a little bit more of, however the difference in grammar and sentence structures kept confusing her.

Yet in a livelihood of selling to tourists, Acenath was an expert in communicating a sale to a person regardless of their nationality.

The woman gave a toothy grin and put the money in a bag around her waist; then picking up a long stick, she hooked the top of the scarf and brought it down. Wrapping it in brown paper neatly tied with a coarse piece of string.

Liz took the package and reached down to lightly squeeze her hand in thanks.

Acenath nodded, “نراكم قريبا.” Then immediately fell straight back into the quick rhythm of weaving.

Liz softly shook her head, a light smile on her lips and tucked her purchase under her arm; continuing on her journey.

Cairo was like nowhere she had experienced before. Any Arab countries she had briefly visited during her time with the bureau had always been to generic hotels or offices that could just have easily been in DC.

However out here in the streets; exploring the shops, markets and routines of the millions of people who lived in the giant city, it was a rush.

It had been a little overwhelming the first time she’d dragged Red out when they’d arrived a little over two weeks ago, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit she stuck close to his side during that venture. But she’d quickly got caught up in the energy and after a couple of times, it felt like stepping into a familiar dance each time she wandered away from the hotel.

Red couldn’t quite keep up with the extent of time she enjoyed spending strolling in and out of the web of streets and alleys, so he mostly just joined her in the evenings.

Since their conversation on the boat, his unseen grip on her had loosened even more. There was no side look when she announced she was heading out for the morning, just a tender smile and wishes that she had a good time. On quite a few occasions, Dembe wasn’t even following her – and when he was, she had the feeling it was more out of habit than because it had been requested.

Of course, they still had many protocols in place as they were both in a constant level of danger.

Yet it was things that they’d decided on together rather than just things he put around her.

Liz wasn’t entirely sure if he actually recognised that it was something he was doing. To look at him, it was more like a weight he hadn’t known was there had lifted after unburdening himself with a history he had hidden from her for so long. Through this, a tight coil of fear and anxiety had begun to unwind. Fear over her reactions, over her hating him if he continued to keep things from her, the anxiety that her unawareness of those secrets would lead to harm. It was a complex mix of emotions that he had probably never considered came with the relationship he had been trying to mould.

In regards to the other aspect she’d discovered, she’d decided that for now it was best to just let things continue as they were.

After last time she wasn’t quite ready to try and contemplate any of her emotions in that particular area.

An intoxicating scent that she had come to look forward to each morning hit her and she ducked into a side alley; dodging between the tightly packed crowds. Pushing aside a curtain she entered one of the small shops tucked away behind the stalls.

The man at the counter glanced up and a fond smile crossed his face, “ صباح الخي. Our Spanish flower returns to us.”

Liz reached her hand over the glass and he shook it, “Hola Uncle, by now you should know there’s nowhere else I’m going to go for a pastry.”

Madu chuckled, “And we are very grateful,” He grabbed a plate and picked a thin noodle-like pastry from the cabinet, “Here, I have your favourite today.”

“Well now I know this is going to be a good day.” Liz took the Kunafa and bit into it; a sweet syrup flavour mixed with clotted cream and nuts sprinkled over her tongue.

Another customer entered and he waved to them, then he turned back to her and gestured to the one small table in the corner, “Please, have a seat – the boys would very much like to see you, I will send them out.”

Liz smiled and took her treat over to the table, enjoying the flow of language as Madu began chatting to the other man.

She had come across his little bakery quite by chance, well, chance and one of his sons.

It had been her first morning wandering around the markets on her own and she had gotten a craving for something sweet but didn’t know enough about Egyptian food to know what she would like.

A young boy, only ten years old, had suddenly appeared at her side wanting to know where she was from.

“I’m from Spain, do you know where that is?” Her voice had slipped into a slight accent and she’d knelt down to meet his eye.

Red kept telling her that she didn’t need to hide behind personas; that people were rarely going to link a random woman they met to a face they may see on the news at some point. However, she found it comforting, being a ghost amongst the crowd. She wasn’t like him; she didn’t need everyone to know her name and have her actions link back to her to create a bold reputation.

That worked for him, that’s what drew people into his orbit.

She preferred just being a normal person who passed through people’s lives.

The boy had nodded, “Yes – I know lots of countries. I’m going to be a pilot when I’m older.”

“That sounds very exciting,” She’d squinted her eyes and placed a finger on her chin, “Well then if you’re going to be a pilot, that must mean you know where lots of things are. Do you think you could tell me where the best sweets are sold near here?”

His face had lit up and he tugged on her dress, “My Baba! He makes the best! Come on!”

That’s how she’d found herself being pulled along through various alleyways until she’d stumbled into Madu’s little bakery. He had apologised profusely when he had seen his son pulling her inside but she assured him the boy had been a big help.

Each day she came back the young boy, who she now knew was called Saa, came out to chatter away to her, mostly asking all kinds of questions about countries she had been to. His two younger brothers, Ishaq and Shakir, who were seven and five came out as well although they were much shyer.

It was from Saa that she learnt that their mother had died earlier that year. She had been a Canadian journalist, which explain their fluent English and Saa’s dream of being a pilot. He wanted to explore all the places his mother had been to and told him about in her stories.

Madu did not speak of his late wife, apart from one mention that her name had been Rebecca, but he didn’t seem to mind the boys sharing their tales. She got the impression that he wanted them to feel free to talk about and remember her, but for him it was too painful.

When she had searched her name to learn more about who Rebecca had been, she had discovered why.

Liz took another bite of the Kunafa just as her current name was shouted.

“Auntie Elena! Look what I made!” Saa burst from behind the counter and fell into the chair opposite, putting a half-finished stick and clay creation on the table, “Do you know what it is?”

She tilted her head to the side and gave a thoughtful hum, “Well, I think these look like wings to me – and this looks like a pointy cockpit, is it a plane?”

He grinned and clapped his hands together, “Yes! I made it all by myself!”

“No I helped too!” Ishaq whined as he ran over to join his brother, little Shakir plodded along behind and came around to take a place pushed up slightly against Liz’s side.

“Only one wing!” Saa rebuked.

Ishaq pushed his brother’s shoulder, “It was better than yours!”

“توقف! تتصرف أنفسكم.” Madu’s sharp tone cut over their bickering.

They both turned to him with their heads hung slightly, “آسف يا أبي.”

Liz smiled and picked up the craft, “Well I think you both did a beautiful job.”

Saa ended up going and fetching some more sticks and clay and she spent around an hour helping them finish their plane. Shakir started to get a bit bored as time went on so she also used some of the time drawing little pictures and helping him to practice writing the English words for them.

Eventually she had to be on her way, so she said goodbye to the boys and went back over to Madu.

As she approached, he wiped his hands on a towel and placed one over his heart, giving a small nod, “I am most grateful for the time you give to my children.”

“It is I who’s thankful you let me,” Liz replied, placing some money on the counter, “They are a blessing to you.”

Madu took the note and put down some coins, “Yes – although if they could sometimes have a little less energy it would be nice.”

She laughed, “But then where would the fun be?”

He smiled but she noticed the expression flicker as his gaze happened to glance towards the small window by the entrance. She followed his look and saw a man dressed in clothes that wanted to make it clear they were designer; dark shades over his eyes and a gold ring on his right small finger.

He wasn’t looking towards the shop, just lingering on the opposite side of the alley, a cigarette between his lips. He took a drag and blew out a sharp burst of smoke, then dropped it and crushed it under his foot before walking away.

Liz turned back to Madu, who was still looking at where the man had been, and lowered her voice, “Has he done anything else?”

His eyes flicked to her, “It is not business for you to know.” The words were what he was expected to say, but they did not match the worry on his face.

She sighed, “Madu, that man has passed your bakery every morning for the past two weeks. And I don’t mean to be rude, but the fact that you fiddle with your wedding ring as soon as he’s gone and then look to wherever your boys are makes me believe it has something to do with your wife’s death.”

A sharp breath left him at her words and he took a step back.

“I’m sorry, I read the article one of her friends at her old paper did on the tragedy,” She tilted her head, “It mentioned that she had been working on an investigative piece, that she had been on the verge of uncovering a new illegal trade that had emerged.”

In full it had explained that Rebecca had been following a lead that a drug operation had begun in one of the poorer regions of the city. Drugs were highly illegal in Cairo and weren’t something that were highly sought by average citizens as it was against their religion; therefore, there wasn’t a big trade for it like in most other major cities in the world. The article claimed she had found evidence that the group was snatching and hooking people to the drugs, forcibly making their own customers and then creating a market. Those who were made addicts not coming forward to report the abductions due to the shame of now being reliant on drugs.

The evidence wasn’t possessed but the article had given some names which Liz suspected meant the operation had been forced to dial back for a while.

Now it seemed they had picked up business again and were concerned over whether Madu had this potential evidence.

“He just passes by, he has never come in,” Madu quickly muttered.

Liz gave a sad smile, it was clear that was all he was going to say on the matter, “Okay. Just… here,” She grabbed a pen off the side and scribbled down a number, “I know it seems strange, but please trust me, if anything ever happens – give me a call.”

He frowned and glanced at the paper, but did not pick it up. Instead he took a paper bag and placed another Kunafa into it, handing it to her, “My wife would have liked you.”

Liz gently inclined her head, “I’m sure I would have like her as well.” She gave a small wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow, enjoy the rest of your day.”

“And you.”

With a final smile she stepped back onto the street and slipped into the stream of people.

She walked for another ten minutes, ducking down an array of side streets. She handed her extra treat to an old woman begging as she passed by. Eventually she got to the right corner and headed over to a woman who was lingering against a railing by some steps leading down to a basement apartment.

Liz slipped a small envelope into her hand, “Date and time of the next shipment plus some money to pay off the couple of dock workers.”

The woman, whose rich red hair was hidden under her head scarf but could be noted by the thick spread of freckles across her face, rolled her eyes, “You already gave me a load last week.”

“You saying you don’t need more supplies?”

“Of course not – just never had someone this eager to be helpful.”

Liz smirked, “Maybe I just want to return the favour.”

Maddie chuckled, “I think you already did that after you didn’t turn me in when I got in contact that first time after I fled.”

Maddie Price had once been a highly respected doctor in the American medical field. Liz had got to know her through a mutual friend and over her years in the bureau had sometimes contacted her for insight into medical aspects of cases she was working. All in an official capacity of course.

However, about four years ago it had been discovered that Maddie had been stealing mass quantities of various drugs and medicines and providing them for free to off-book patients. She had skipped the country before she could get arrested and it was only four months later that Liz had got a blocked phone call.

They had kept in light communication since; Maddie still providing information, now at a higher range as she passed through countries working in various situations, and Liz giving small updates on her family.

In her head she had liked to justify it as keeping a useful informant. Now she was no longer an agent, she could admit that she didn’t agree with the high charges the government were going to try and hit her with due to pressure from the rich drug companies.

Liz shrugged, “Well then it must be because I think you’re doing good work here.”

She had known Maddie was currently in Cairo and running a discreet clinic for women in need of particular health care. Specifically, those who desired contraception but had husbands who would not allow it or women who had suffered assault and wanted to deal with it in a way that went against their societies religious beliefs.

Maddie raised an eyebrow, “You still haven’t told me how you’re getting these supplies.”

“You know I’m a big criminal now like you, got to have some perks.”

Her friend laughed and shook her head.

It had been nice getting her call a few weeks after she had become a fugitive, she’d answered the phone not knowing what she was going to hear and a familiar voice had just come through saying, “_You just did this to try and one up me didn’t you?_”

Maddie always held the belief that their government was a corrupt mess and didn’t need any convincing that Liz was being screwed with.

“Well you’re much better at being a criminal than me – I feel ashamed, I’ve been at this longer than you.”

Liz nudged her shoulder, “You’re not in the game until you’re on the most wanted list.”

In truth it was more Ella that had been helping get the supplies across. The Italian called now and then to check that she was still safe to play with the Cabal accounts as she pleased. When Liz found out they were heading to Cairo she’d asked a favour and got it organised so some funds from those accounts got routed to set up shipments for Maddie’s clinic.

If they were going to screw with the Cabal’s funds to put them on edge, may as well do it in a way that was beneficial to others.

Red didn’t exactly know she’d been doing this.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed and she glanced down to see his name.

A sly grin crossed her friend’s face, “Seems Clyde’s getting worried where his Bonnie is.”

“You’re impossible sometimes,” She sighed, pressing decline and looking back up, “And that reference is getting old.”

“You know it’s super cute how you pretend you’re not all about that man. Do you know how many times you used to mention him on the phone after he arrived at your work’s doorstep?”

“Okay I’m going to go now before you get lost in your gossip deprived spiral,” Liz gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, “Call me if you need anything.”

Maddie grinned, “I’d say likewise but I don’t think there’s much I could help with that your boyfriend couldn’t.”

Liz threw her a half-hearted glare and headed back down the way she’d come.

She hit re-dial and he answered after the first ring.

“_I didn’t get to your voice mail before, am I to believe that you rejected my call?_”

The corner of her mouth curled up, “I’m sure you’ll recover.”

“_Don’t be so certain; my feelings are delicate Lizzie.”_

“I’m sure people are weeping for you somewhere.” She ducked under a display of fabric, “Anyway, what can I do for you? You getting bored up there all on your own?”

“_In fact, I am – I was wondering if you would care to join me on a little trip?_”

“Always.” She bit her lip, that just slipped out, “Where are we going?”

“_Get into the car and you’ll find out when you arrive_.”

As she stepped out onto a main street a black car pulled up and Dembe got out and walked around to open the door to the front seat.

She shook her head, “You just have to make everything dramatic don’t you.”

“_It’s called style sweetheart. Come along, things to do_.”

Liz hung up the call and greeted Dembe who gave her a warm smile. Sliding into the seat she turned around and noticed her satchel was in the back. She placed her package with the new headscarf behind her and took the bag.

She looked to Dembe as he got into the driver’s seat, “Do you want to tell me where I’m going?”

He raised an eyebrow and pulled out onto the road.

She chuckled and leant her head back against the head rest.

Some things didn’t change.

* * * *

“My friend, I promise it is perfectly safe.”

Liz leant forward to hide her giggles in her camel’s neck as Red continued to cast a suspicious look at the one he was being encouraged to get on.

It hadn’t taken long to realise where she was being taken when a giant sphinx with pyramids in the background started to get nearer and nearer.

Honestly, she’d got so caught up in the actual city that the trademark staple of Egypt had not fully crossed her mind. Red had probably been waiting for her to demand they go visit since they first arrived and eventually decided he would have to be the one to push the trip.

As soon as she’d stepped out of the car, mouth hung open as she stared up at the breath-taking structures, a local tour guide had been quick to scout a tourist with funds.

Which meant in the few moments it took for Red to approach her, she had already signed them up to a private camel ride tour around the pyramids.

“This animal has done this trip hundreds of times and not once caused any problems,” The man stated, patting the camel on the neck.

Red tilted his head, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, “Perhaps there is another mode of transport I could follow in?”

The tour guide turned to Liz in exasperation, gesturing to her stubborn partner to demand she try and speak reason.

She shrugged, a wide grin still on her face, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t realise he had such an aversion to camels,” She raised an eyebrow and snapped her fingers at Red, “How was it you described them a moment ago?”

“They’re dangerous both ends and crafty in the middle,” He muttered, now in some kind of stare off with the creature.

Liz chuckled and shook her head, “Come on – of all the things you’ve done in your life you can’t let this of all things be the one you draw the line at.”

Red’s gaze flicked to her, “I assure you I can.”

She would have to play dirty.

Letting her eyes widen slightly and smoothing her tone she hit him with, “Please, for me.”

He clicked his tongue and the corner of his lip curved up, “Very well.”

Adjusting his fedora, he stepped forward to the kneeling animal and gracefully swung his leg over; shifting a bit as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“Lizzie, I hope you realise that there is not one other person I would do this for,” He huffed, gripping tightly onto the saddle as the guide coaxed the camel onto its feet and next to hers.

She winked, “I know,” Then she quickly reached into her satchel and pulled out her polaroid camera, “That’s why we have to mark the occasion.”

Red rolled his eyes but made no verbal complaint; he had grown used to her taking the most eclectic array of photos since Dembe had given her the camera.

“Try not to look grumpy,” She sang, as she leant back and held the camera up to get them both in. She hit the button and made a small noise of excitement as the photo began to print out.

When it was finished, she gave it a quick shake before looking at it.

A laugh burst out of her.

There was her with a wide grin on her face, and just behind her, Raymond Reddington holding up a peace sign.

She held the photo up to him, “You’re becoming quite the model.”

He smirked, “What do you mean becoming?”

Their guide also took a picture of the two of them that fully showed the camels and then they set off.

Red was quite well behaved and allowed the local man to explain the history of the pyramids for a whole twenty minutes before he requested him to fall behind them slightly so they could have some privacy.

Which of course was just a polite way to take over as guide.

“As our friend has explained, to this day we still do not fully know how the pyramids were built,” Somehow, he was managing to still look dignified despite bobbing up and down on a camel’s back as he spoke, “Yet one new aspect was recently discovered by physicists in Amsterdam.”

“The cats built them,” Liz joked, “That’s why they were worshipped.”

A fond smile crossed his face, “Although quite a theory I’m afraid not. Their insight was actually into how the builders pulled the heavy objects needed for construction over the sand.”

“Sand. That’s what you’re going with.”

“The smallest factors often hold the greatest value.”

Liz shook her head, “You just really want to tell me this sand story don’t you?”

He dropped the hand he’d been posing and turned a child-like gaze on her, “One of the researchers is a dear friend of mine, they worked very hard.”

She laughed, “Go on then – teach me about sand transport.”

“It is quite remarkable that these findings had not been considered before,” He immediately slipped into lecture mode, that familiar lilt of passion dancing between his words, “You see, a wall painting was discovered in an ancient tomb belonging to Djehutihotep, dating back to around 1900 B.C. It depicted 172 men hauling an immense statue using ropes attached to a sledge and in the drawing, a person can be seen standing at the front of the sledge pouring water over the sand. Previously, Egyptologists had thought it to be a purely ceremonial act. However, this team saw it and questioned _why_ was it being done.”

Liz hummed as she stretched her head back to look up at the largest pyramid; to think they were built with no mechanical means was baffling. She could hardly put a cabinet together using instructions.

“They conducted their own experiment using sledges and heavy weights and discovered that wetting the sand significantly reduced the friction. To the extent that only half the number of people were required compared to those needed when pulling it over dry sand.”

He waved a hand, “Of course it was a fine balance; the Egyptians could not have simply thrown on any level of water. They believe that although it varies according to the type of sand, the optimal amount of water would have fallen between two to five percent of the volume of sand.”

Liz squinted her eyes and looked back to him, “So you’re saying before your friend’s team, a load of people whose whole business is Ancient Egypt, saw a picture of a guy wetting sand and didn’t think maybe it was just because it made it easier to pull things?”

“Academics often seek romantic notions over the plain and simple truths.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You would have made a terrible academic. I can imagine all the papers you would have written convincing fledging undergrads of things you had completely fabricated.”

“The joys that could have been,” He smirked.

His phone buzzed and he slipped it out to take a quick glance before putting it away.

Liz nodded to it, “Any news?”

“Nothing more,” He replied, pulling on the rope to draw his camel nearer to her side, “It is becoming both infuriating and intriguing.”

“And you’re definitely sure your source was legit?”

“They have been ninety-five percent of the time and I see no reason for this to be one of the minorities.”

Liz leant towards him, “It’ll be disappointing if the bank is just linked to some minor player after all this.”

“All intel is favourable sweetheart,” He caught her eye, “However, you are correct – it would not be ideal.”

“Well of the places to wait around for a potential dead-end, this is a pretty good one,” She grinned, reaching over to tap his arm, “You know, Cleopatra used to be my go-to Halloween costume for quite a good run of my college years.”

Red tilted his head, his tone dropping slightly, “Were you aware that scientists have stated that humans become more aesthetically pleasing as generations continue,” His gaze remained fixed to hers, “If the men who praised Cleopatra’s beauty viewed you – they would not be able to comprehend the sight.”

Liz blinked, her mind freezing for a moment.

Then she felt blood run to her cheeks and she quickly broke their stare; hoping he hadn’t noticed the blush.

Out of the corner of her eye, the hint of a satisfied smirk told her he had.

She cleared her throat and pulled on the camel’s reign, moving them slightly apart again. She glanced behind to their guide who seemed to look a bit forlorn all on his own. He wasn’t that old; probably a post-grad student who did the tours for the extra money. From the manner he’d been eagerly telling them about the pyramids, she was assuming his topic of research was his country’s history.

Liz looked back to her partner and without saying anything, she could tell he knew what she was thinking.

Red rolled his eyes, but with only a small huff twisted around and gave a warm smile to the guide, “My friend – could you share with us some of the history of the locals who would have crafted these designs?”

The man visibly perked up and quickly urged his camel to close the distance between them.

A soft smile spread over Liz’s lips as she whispered, “Sorry, he just looked like a kicked puppy.”

“Your bleeding heart will do me in one day,” Red sighed, but there was a tenderness in his eyes as he looked to her.

She stretched her foot over to give him a slight nudge in the leg, then pulled herself back into a respectable position as the guide came up to their sides.

The tour took another half an hour and Liz couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the trip as Red made it his task to ensure their guide felt thoroughly appreciated. He listened intently, asked many follow-up questions and made appropriate sounds of delight and interest at the information given.

By the end the student was practically giddy from the experience. It was adorable.

And the fact that Red made the effort to make that happen, simply because she had indicated that she felt bad for the man…

A warmth curled around her heart.

Once they had finished the tour, Red practically leaping off his camel to the extent that he would do such an action, they wandered around the sphinx for a while. Liz taking the opportunity to take a few more touristy photos, two of which she dragged her companion into again, before Dembe returned to take them back to the city.

Liz leant forward between the seats and held out a polaroid to her friend, “Want to see an amazing photo?”

She ignored the groan next to her, “Dembe, please note I will never forgive you for bestowing her with this device.”

Dembe raised an eyebrow at Red through the rear-view mirror, then flicked his eyes down to the photo being held up to his face.

She grinned as she saw the humour sneaking into his eyes.

“You make a good pharaoh Raymond.”

Red shot forward and snatched the photo, “Not that one Lizzie!”

She giggled as he stuffed it into her satchel, “But you do!”

Raymond Reddington, posing with one leg up on a sphinx, pointing out to a sea of imaginary citizens with a novelty Egyptian crown on his head and an abandoned walking stick as a spectre, was not something she had imagined herself ever witnessing.

Let alone get a picture of.

“I definitely preferred the days where you two had as little contact as possible.”

Liz shrugged, collapsing back into her seat, “Not our fault you have a type.”

“I’ve come to believe I have no choice in the matter,” Red muttered, taking out his phone and scrolling down the screen, “Where do we wish to eat tonight?”

Liz slid further down, adjusting the pins around her headscarf which were starting to dig into her skin, “I can’t be bothered getting dressed up for anywhere nice – can we just get a takeaway?”

“I don’t think you keep count of how often you make that request,” He smirked, throwing her a side glance.

“Well neither should you, calorie police,” She gestured to the front seat, “Anyway Dembe’s craving some pizza.”

Red leant away from her and tilted his head, “And you have deciphered this how?”

Liz looked to Dembe for support and the man’s gaze flicked to the rear-view mirror again.

He gave a small nod.

She clapped in victory, shooting Red a smug grin.

“Minimal contact,” He sighed, “Wonderful times.”

* * * *

Liz stretched her arms above her head, her back arching off the sofa as she gave a low groan of satisfaction.

Not much beat a good post-pizza haze.

A plate appeared under her nose with another generously decorated pepperoni slice.

She pushed it away with a grimace, “If I eat anymore, I’ll fall from comfortably full to gross and bloated.”

Dembe gave a slight shrug and got over half of it in his mouth with one bite, putting the plate down and stretching his arm out along the back of the sofa.

Liz rolled her eyes and poked him in the stomach with one of her feet that were resting on his lap, “Does fat just turn into muscle with you?”

Red tilted his head back; he was sitting on the floor leant against the sofa. Partly nestled under her arm which was dangling down and over his shoulder.

“On multiple occasions I have attempted to discover how and when Dembe finds the hours to maintain such a physique,” He drawled, “It still remains a mystery.”

Liz smirked, “You mean you two don’t hit the gym together?”

Red reached back and gave her a sharp poke in the leg.

Dembe’s eyes flicked to her, “I took him once – it was not successful.”

She chuckled at the light huff that came from below her and she slid her hand across to link their fingers together.

“I believe sessions are meant to be catered to the individual,” Red defended, his thumb absently rubbing against the back of her hand, “I may have an impressive level of fitness but not to the same extent as a younger man who has the metabolism of a hummingbird.”

Liz frowned, “A hummingbird?”

“Indeed, they create energy at one hundred times the rate of elephants.”

She shook her head, “Of course they do.”

The television cut out and the black and white movie was suddenly replaced by a cricket match.

Two heads turned around.

Dembe replaced the remote and didn’t bother to meet their eyes.

Liz looked back down, “Do you just research trivia facts so you don’t ever have to say a normal sentence?”

“Perhaps I simply enjoy maintaining a wide knowledge of the intricacies of the world.”

“Translation: I look things up so I always seem smart.”

“I do not require an array of facts to confirm my intelligence sweetheart.”

She leant down so her lips were next to his ear, “Do you just do it because you think it’ll impress me then?”

He tilted his head back so their eyes locked, “That depends,” He murmured, “Are you impressed?”

The corner of her mouth curved up and she shifted so her hair fell partly across one side of her face, “Takes a little more than quiz answers to do that.”

His gaze trailed her neck, “I will bear that in mind.”

Liz leant back and resettled her head onto the armrest, a small smile settling on her features as Red pulled their adjoined hands closer to his chest.

There was a light flick on her ankle and she glanced to the end of the sofa. Dembe’s gaze remained fixed on the screen but she could sense the amusement rolling off him.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket; she slid it out and casually cast a look at the number. It wasn’t one she recognised. But these days the type of people who called her seemed to pride themselves in having one number for the least amount of time possible.

She hit answer and put it up to her ear, “Yep?”

“**مساعدة! هناك سوء الرجال هنا!”**

Liz shook her head at Red who had glanced up at her, “I think you have the wrong number sorry.”

“_Auntie Elena!_”

The two men instinctively reached for weapons at the speed she shot to her feet.

“Saa. What’s happened? Where’s your Baba?”

The boy’s voice was a shaky whisper, it sounded like he was hiding in a small space, “_Bad men are here. Baba told me to call you.”_

She hooked the phone between her ear and shoulder as she strapped her gun around her leg, “Are your brothers with you?”

_“Baba hid them. I ran to get the phone. Baba was fighting but I can’t hear –“_

Saa’s voice cut to a high-pitched scream and cries of Arabic.

Her heart stopped.

“Saa! Saa are you there!”

A dull tone pierced her ears.

The line was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter, showing Liz in her element of getting to know people and the fact that through her career she would have also made a good little collection of contacts. Red isn't the only one who has people out in the world. Also crime gals all working together is the best! 
> 
> Plus who doesn't love a bit of the Red, Liz and Dembe friendship.
> 
> Anyone notice a little reference to a favourite film of mine?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and that you all had a good Christmas/New Years - back to the roaring 20s we go!
> 
> Let me know what you thought x


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz doesn't take kidnapping children lightly.

Saa was in danger.

Liz jumped over the sofa, grabbing a scarf and wrapping it around her head with one hand as the other grabbed another gun and tucked it under her belt. She was out the door and already running down the stairwell before either of her companions got a word out. 

She burst into the underground carpark and clicked the car remote, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Turning on the ignition the car had already begun to move just as the two men jumped in. Red next to her and Dembe in the back.

“Saa is one of the boys from the bakery?” Red checked his bullet count as he spoke, “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know,” Her hard tone was laced with worry. The wheels screeched as they flew out onto the road; she pulled a sharp left gathering horn blares from other vehicles. “He said there were bad men in the house. Remember the drug operation I told you about – it has to be them.”

Red leant over and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a knife attached inside and handing it back to Dembe, “The boy’s late mother, you said she claimed to have evidence against this group?”

“Rebecca – and yes but it was never found and I doubt that if it does exist that Madu has it.” She slammed her foot on the gas as the light turned red.

“Which our drug dealers will not take on word,” He gripped onto the door handle as they swung down a side street, “I have known operations like this in variations, a small group attempting to create demand where it does not exist. They are determined but skittish. They will not harm the boy if they believe there is information to be recovered.”

Her jaw clenched, “Tell that to Rebecca!”

“That was an act of blind revenge – this has been planned, two weeks you said someone has been watching your friend?”

“Probably over that,” She muttered.

“Therefore, if they simply wanted to kill the family they would have done so already, this event is due to fear over the apparent evidence. They want it.”

The car scraped against a wall as she took a shortcut down an empty alleyway made for carts, “We should have dealt with this as soon as I found out. I shouldn’t have underplayed the situation to you.”

Red braced himself against the dashboard as they came to a sudden stop at a turned-over stall, grimacing at the speed of the immediate reverse and swing down a different street. “You did not underplay anything. You are aware our enquires into the matter did not indicate there were signs of threats above the simple walk-by scare mongering. We cannot charge into every criminal operation we stumble across.”

“Of course not, you might want to do business with them!” She slammed on the brakes at the end of the bakery’s street.

Red didn’t reply and simply stepped out of the car after her as she sprinted down the alley.

The door had been kicked in.

Liz drew her gun and entered the shop, scanning the corners of the room. She felt Red on her flank doing the same.

There were no signs of disturbance in the front section. She went to step through the door into the back room but there was a light grip on her arm and Red drew her back as Dembe took the lead.

There had definitely been a struggle in this part. Shelves had been pulled to the ground and crushed boxes were scattered across the room. A cracked bat was on the floor; drops of blood clinging to the wood.

Liz fought the urge to call out for the children. She tapped Dembe and indicated to the stairs which led to their living area.

The two of them paused at the top when Dembe held out a hand. He approached the first door on the left which was slightly agar and slowly pushed it with one hand. He stepped in and emerged a few seconds later with a nod for Liz to go inside.

She rushed past and immediately ran to Madu who was lying with half his body in a smashed glass table. His face was barely recognisable.

“Uncle? Can you hear me?” She didn’t dare to touch him, she didn’t want to cause further injury, “Where are your boys?”

His eyes cracked open slightly, his voice was starch and cracked, “Saa… called?”

Liz blinked back a tear, “Yes, yes – where’s Ishaq and Shakir?”

Madu’s hand jerked slightly and one finger tapped the floor, “Old… fridge.”

Red had stepped into the room and she got up and went over to him, “Look after him, the little ones are downstairs.”

He nodded, “The house is clear.”

She bit the inside of her cheek; the look in his eyes informed her that clear included no sign of Saa.

“I’ll organise medical assistance,” He added.

Liz shook her head, “Just the transport and equipment, I’ve got someone for the rest.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her.

She ran back down the stairs and pulled aside the fallen shelves by the back wall. It seemed this part had been purposeful rather than just in a struggle. Fortunately, she’d been in this room a few times and remembered the old fridge tucked away in the corner.

There was a small piece of wood in the bottom of the door, keeping air flowing inside.

“Ishaq, Shakir – it’s Auntie Elena,” She gently assured, making sure her accent was in place, as she slowly opened the fridge.

As soon as they could see her, they both flung themselves forward. Shakir burst into tears against her neck and Ishaq tightly gripped her shirt, not making a sound.

“You’re safe. They’ve gone,” She whispered, stroking their hair and pulling them tight against her.

As she hugged them, she pulled out her phone and shot off a text before hitting dial and bringing it to her ear.

“_Babe, I know I said call but do you know what the time is?”_

“I need you to come to the address I just text you.” Liz kept her tone low and neutral, trying to not alarm the boys, “Bring supplies and a few of your trusted staff.”

“_Are you hurt?”_

“It’s not for me – we’re just a few streets over, come quickly.”

“_Yeah, yeah of course.”_

Liz hung up. There was a creak on the staircase and she looked around to see Red approaching.

He quietly stepped forward and spoke with a soft tone, “Dembe is doing what he can. Mr Essam did not see other events.”

She nodded; she hadn’t expected Madu to have seen what happened to Saa in his state. The boys flinched at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and she leant her head back down to them, “Don’t worry, this is Mr Reddington – he’s a good friend of mine. And upstairs is my other friend Mr Zuma, he’s speaking to your Baba.”

Ishaq pulled back slightly at the mention of his father, “Can we see Baba?”

Liz forced a smile and wiped her thumb across his wet cheek, “Not right now chiquito, but soon. How about we go to your room for a bit?”

He gave a small nod, too in shock to make any arguments. Liz took the hand that Red reached out, managing to get off the floor despite the boys refusing to let go of her.

She adjusted Shakir on her hip and folded her arm over Ishaq’s shoulders. Leading them up the stairs and into their bedroom, making sure to keep them clear of the living room where their father was.

They didn’t need the trauma of seeing him skewered to a table.

Liz settled them into one of the beds, transferring their grips from her to each other and the cuddly toys around them, “I need to talk to Mr Reddington - I’ll be right by the door.”

She gave them both another quick kiss on the head before going over to Red who was lingering just outside the room.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and kept his voice to a whisper, “Are you alright Lizzie?”

“That’s not an issue at the moment,” She rubbed two fingers against her forehead, “These boys could lose their dad any minute and they have no idea their older brother has been kidnapped. And I hardly know where we’d even begin to look! These people could have taken him anywhere.”

Red pulled out his phone, “Fortunately, that is not quite the case.” He gave a few taps and then held it out to her; the screen showed an image of a generic derelict building, “Based off where Mr Essam’s wife was originally attacked, the movements the article had written on the group as well as recent movements that have been noted by those I have made enquiries of. This is their current base of operations and most likely where they have taken the boy.”

Liz released a deep breath and quickly leant forward to wrap her arms around him, “I have never been so thankful for you needing to know everything,” She stepped back and caught his gaze, “Also sorry about that thing I said in the car, I didn’t mean it.”

The corner of his mouth curled up, “If I took everything you said to heart over the years, I would have withered long ago.”

She frowned, “Kind of feels like that was an insult.”

“I can arrange assistance to wait for us at the location,” He continued, ignoring her comment, “I have already sent for two people to come here and escort Mr Essam and his children to the medical facilities. I assume your doctor will arrive shortly?”

“Any minute now, she’ll bring a few staff with her.”

Red tilted his head, that fondness in his eyes once more, “I will admit, I was not aware you had such contacts in Cairo.”

Liz shrugged, “Got to keep you on your toes,” She heard her name cautiously called out downstairs, “That’ll be her.” She raised her voice slightly, “Maddie - through the back and upstairs.”

The doctor stepped into view wearing a mis-match of clothes that spoke of how quickly she’d come over; she ran up the stairs two at a time.

“Liz,” She smiled, then turned to Red with more of a smirk, “Liz’s man.”

Liz rolled her eyes, “Not now,” She tucked away a few red locks of hair that had fallen out of her friend’s headscarf, “In here – his names Madu Essam.”

Another woman appeared and Maddie gestured to her before stepping into the living room, “This is Amira, she was working at the clinic tonight – a couple of others will be here soon.”

Liz shook the woman’s hand and pointed to the door behind her, “There are two young boys in shock in here, Ishaq and Shakir, could you tend to them please?”

Amira gave a small smile and nod, entering the room without asking any more questions. Liz guessed in her line of work, not knowing extensive details about patient’s situations was the norm. She watched as the woman gently approached the children’s bed, softly speaking to them in Arabic. 

Red placed a hand on her back and led her towards the other room, “They are in capable hands.”

“How trusting of you.” She muttered, her head craning back as she moved forward so she could see the boys for another moment.

His thumb rubbed lightly against her shirt, “It is your judgement that I trust.”

The warmth from the comment was pushed down as she saw Madu’s condition once more.

Blood had seeped into most of the rug. The extent coming from a large gash in his side which still had a giant piece of glass stuck in it. Smaller cuts as well as an array of bruises scattered the rest of his body that was visible. His face had already become unrecognisable from the swelling that had begun. She could only imagine what further internal injuries he had.

Dembe’s hands were covered in blood from where he must have been putting pressure on the main wound waiting for assistance to arrive. He was now knelt near Madu’s head, softly murmuring what sounded like a prayer she had heard the children say before, trying to keep him conscious.

Maddie didn’t look up from where she was carefully bandaging around the glass, “He’s very lucky to still be alive, I can stabilise this shard but if I don’t get him in surgery soon it’s not going to do much good.”

“Mads,” Liz hissed, kneeling next to her and subtly indicating to Madu’s eyes that were flickering as he tried to keep them open. 

The doctor threw her a brief glance, “He’s lost so much blood he doesn’t even know who he is right now.”

Liz shook her head, “Charming – look, just do what you can, Red’s got medical transport on the way, they’ll take you to somewhere you can do surgery.”

“You definitely picked the right travel buddy,” She muttered, then she nodded to Red who was now on the phone behind them, “So is this a bad guy friend of his or a good guy in the wrong place.”

Liz gave a grim smile, “Surprisingly this had nothing to do with him. Madu was caught up in a situation that I should have demanded to help him with a while back.”

Maddie pinned off the bandage and gave her a slight nudge with her elbow, “You can’t try and save everyone Liz – take that from someone who has learnt from experience.”

A shrill ring suddenly cut through the room, making two of the occupants jump.

Liz glanced under the table to where the noise was originating and saw a phone, she carefully manoeuvred her hand between the glass and Madu to grab it.

Red had hung up and come to crouch next to her, “Put it on speaker. Dembe – if you could.”

Dembe stopped reciting the prayer but didn’t take his eyes from the man’s which were drowsily locked to his.

Maddie frowned, “We can’t just answer, if it’s family I don’t know what state to say he’s –“

Liz cut her off with a glare then hit accept.

“مرحبا.” Dembe murmured.

The voice that replied was sharp and frenzied; she didn’t understand the words but she could sense that this wasn’t a man who felt in control of his plan.

“**نريد الأدلة. وجعله في منتصف الليل غدا أو أنت لا ترى الصبي مرة أخرى**..”

Dembe raised an eyebrow, “أين ؟”

There was a pause, as if the man had forgotten what he was supposed to say.

“**سوق الفاكهة. الجانب الجنوبي. منتصف الليل.**” The voice barked.

Then the line cut off.

Maddie got the first word in.

“Has this man’s child been kidnapped?” She hissed, now conscious about keeping her voice low.

Liz ignored the question, “What did he say?”

Maddie shot a cautious glance at her patient and then leant in nearer her ear, “They want some evidence by midnight tomorrow or he’s not going to see his son again.”

She turned to Dembe, “He sounded worried.”

He gave a slight nod, “I do not believe he has done this before.”

“From the state in which they have left Mr Essam, despite wishing him to collect and deliver evidence within twenty-four hours – I doubt he was supposed to be injured to such an extent.” Red stood up, “The voice sounded young, and from this display it is likely that this operation holds less experience than they have portrayed.”

Liz looked up to him, a cold steel in her eyes, “Then it should be easy to burn the whole thing to the ground.”

* * * *

Saa bit down on his lip, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

He hastily wiped away a tear that rolled down his cheek and pulled his legs closer to his chest.

The plastic ties around his ankles and wrists really hurt.

He wanted his Baba.

He wanted Ishaq and Shakir.

A small whimper escaped his mouth.

The man sitting in-front of all the computer screens snapped his head around and shot him a glare, but he didn’t say anything. He just tapped the gun on his waist two times with a raised eyebrow and then turned back to look at the screens.

Saa didn’t like this man, but at least he wasn’t the big scary one who had grabbed him out of the closet.

Or the one who had hurt his Baba.

More tears fell as he squeezed his eyes shut trying to push away the pictures of the big man hitting his Baba. He didn’t stop, there was blood, Baba shouted at him to run, he looked back as a loud crash sounded and Mama’s table was all smashed up.

Why were they doing this?

“أنا تعبت من الانتظار!”

Saa opened his eyes as the man who had talked about him on the phone earlier came back into the room. He had a weird tattoo on his neck that looked like a worm; it wriggled whenever he started to shout. Which happened a lot because he kept coming in and out. And each time he was more and more angry.

“يمكنك ضبط الوقت.” Screen man rolled his eyes, not turning around to look at him.

They kept arguing about having to wait. Worm man would shout about how he didn’t want to sit around anymore and screen man would keep telling him he’d been the one to say the time on the phone.

Saa wasn’t sure how long it had been since the phone call but his tummy was really starting to feel hungry. He definitely thought it must be past breakfast time and it was only just after bedtime that the bad men had come into the house.

“كما كان لدي خيار - هؤلاء الحمقى تقريبا قتله!” Worm man hit his shoulder.

Screen man spun around on his chair and crossed his arms, “قلت لك لا أرسل هذين.”

Saa curled up tighter, hoping that worm man wouldn’t look his way – he would hit him too when he got really angry.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something move on one of the screens.

He squinted at the image. It was the one showing a street corner with a few large rubbish containers.

There it was again.

It was very small but he had definitely seen a foot peak out from behind one of the metal bins.

Neither of the men noticed. They were now stood up, shouting and poking at each other.

Saa’s eyes flicked to a screen further down as a dark figure slid past.

There was another on the top screen.

Then another on the left.

Now there was one outside a door. They placed something on it and quickly ran back behind a car parked on the street.

The thing was flashing.

Saa ducked his head between his arms as he suddenly realised what it was.

An explosion rang out.

“ما كان هذا!” Worm man screamed, spinning around wildly as screen man rushed back to the computer and made all the videos large that showed people with guns entering through the door that had been blown away.

He grimaced and hit a button which made an alarm pierce throughout the building, “لقد تسلل.”

On the videos, more people with guns appeared and started shooting at the ones who had come into the building. The screens flashed with white as they fought. One man suddenly crumpled to the ground and Saa squeezed his eyes shut again.

A sharp pain flashed across the side of his head and he yelped as hands grabbed him by the collar and roughly slammed him up against the wall.

“من هم ؟” Worm man spat in his face.

Saa shook his head, his mouth not wanting to move; he had no idea who these new people were.

The barrel of a gun pressed against his cheek, “من هم!” The man screamed again.

Tears were streaming down Saa’s face and he choked on his breath as he tried to speak, “أنا لا أعرف_.”_

Worm man didn’t believe him, the gun pressed down harder, “قل لي!”

Saa sobbed and closed his eyes once more. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go home.

He screamed as a bang rang out. He fell to the floor as the grip on him disappeared and curled up into a ball as another bang immediately followed.

He thrashed out as more hands touched him but then there was a voice he knew.

“Saa. Saa it’s okay – it’s Auntie Elena, you’re safe, you’re alright.”

It didn’t make sense. But he cautiously peaked out from under his arms and there she was; knelt in front of him with a kind smile on her face.

“Auntie?” He whimpered.

She pulled him into her arms, stroking the back of his head and placing a kiss on top, “Si chiquito, I’m here.”

He buried his head into her and clutched onto her shirt. He was safe now. Auntie Elena was going to take him home.

Saa flinched as more shots rang out in the distance. Auntie Elena pulled back and held his face between her hands, looking him straight in the eyes, “Saa – you need to listen carefully. I’m going to get you out of here now, but I need you to do two things for me okay?”

He gave a small nod.

Her smile looked sad and she wiped away some of the wetness on his cheeks, “Good boy – okay, I need you to hold my hand and not let go at any point. And most importantly, I need you to look at the floor the whole time we’re moving – do you understand? Hold onto me and only look at the floor.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Saa could see Worm man’s hand lying by his foot. The fingers still curled together like they were when they had been holding a gun.

He didn’t look away from Auntie Elena, “I understand.”

She kissed his head again and then quickly pulled him up. They left the computer room and lightly jogged down a corridor. As promised, Saa kept his eyes on the ground; letting Auntie Elena lead him and trusting that she wouldn’t let him bump into anything.

They turned a corner and he was pushed back into the wall as shouts called out followed by gun shots. He felt Auntie Elena lean over him and she shot three times. There was silence again.

They carried on; the whole time Saa could hear more shouts and bangs throughout the building, some near and some far away. He guessed that these were all Auntie Elena’s friends and he wondered how she had so many friends with guns.

He was pulled behind her as she cursed and he felt a bullet speed past. Then there was a bang from behind them and something crashed to the ground.

“Care for a reload sweetheart?”

Auntie Elena gently squeezed his hand when he flinched at the voice, “If it’s not too much bother.”

The new man chuckled and he heard him walk over, he stopped next to them and Saa could see his shoes. They were a thick brown leather like the ones in the fancy shops that rich tourists would go to all the time.

“I do keep saying that you should learn to do this one handed,” Rich man chuckled as a couple of clicks sounded.

“I’ll add it to the list.”

They spoke like Baba and Mama used to, where their voices sounded happy no matter what they were saying. This must be Auntie Elena’s special person.

She knelt down so he could see her face again, “Saa, this is my friend Mr Reddington. We’re almost at the door – just keep your head down for a little bit longer.”

“He spent too much on his shoes,” Saa mumbled without thinking.

Auntie Elena laughed and winked, glancing up to Mr Reddington with a smirk, “The wisdom of children.”

She stood back up and they carried on. They went through two more large rooms and Mr Reddington and Auntie Elena each shot a couple more times. No more bullets sped past them.

Then he squinted as the bright morning sun hit him.

A hand stroked through his hair, “You can look up now chiquito.”

Saa raised a hand over his eyes and gazed up at Auntie Elena. She looked like a warrior from the history books Mama would read to him; standing tall with the sun beaming down on her, scanning all of the other people leaving the building, making sure the battle had been won.

Maybe she was from his history books.

Coming to life to meet him so that she could come and save him.

Mr Reddington leant over and whispered something into her ear.

He looked kind of how Saa had imagined; wearing a fancy suit and having an attitude like the important business men who wander around the part of the city with the giant skyscrapers.

The dark blue hat was cool though. It had a purple feather on it.

Auntie Elena covered her mouth and whispered something back to Mr Reddington; her other hand still stroking his hair, which he didn’t mind. He could still feel where the gun had been pressing against his cheek. It was nice to focus on a different feeling.

Saa’s eyes wandered around the street as they had their adult talk. All the good guys were coming outside too, some pushing along people whose hands were tied together and others gently guiding people who looked scared like he had been. He must have not been the only one who had bad men come and take him.

It must be very early in the morning because there weren’t any other people out on the street. He wasn’t really sure where he was, but it kind of looked like the abandoned block where the old factories used to run. They closed down a while back and a lot of his friends would say it was a great place to go and play. That was before all the parent’s started yelling at anyone who said they had gone to play there.

His gaze stopped on one man who didn’t seem to have come out of the building. He was sitting on a vesper, talking into a phone and looking over at them all.

Saa glanced up to Auntie Elena and then back to the man.

No, not all of them – at her.

He said something else into his phone, his eyes not moving from Auntie Elena.

Then he put the phone away and suddenly sped off down the street.

Saa frowned, that had been strange.

He tugged on Auntie Elena’s shirt to tell her but at the movement she looked down and spoke first, “Are you ready to go and see your brothers?”

The strange man left his mind, “And Baba?”

She put an arm around his shoulders and lead him over to a black car, “Your Baba’s just seeing a doctor for a bit so that he feels better but then yes, him too.”

Saa’s eyes widened, “Did Ishaq and Shakir have to see a doctor?”

Auntie Elena opened the door and wiped her thumb over his cheek, “No, they’re fine. Just sad because they are missing you.”

The car seat was really comfy and he cuddled against Auntie Elena as she slid in next to him. A big man was in the driver’s seat and although he wasn’t smiling, he didn’t seem scary like the other men had been. Mr Reddington got into the other front seat and glanced back to give him a smile, “It’s very nice to meet you Mr Essam.”

Saa lifted his chin slightly at the use of his title, “And you, Mr Reddington.”

The man’s gaze then flicked to Auntie Elena and his smile became softer; he briefly glanced down and then back to her face before giving a small nod and turning back to face the front.

The car started moving.

Saa turned his head slightly against Auntie Elena’s side to try and see what Mr Reddington had quickly looked down at. At first, he couldn’t see anything, but then he noticed a small black device hidden in her hand. It looked like a car remote.

They had just turned the corner when her finger twitched and pressed down on a button on the remote.

A loud explosion from behind shook the car.

None of the people around him reacted, although Auntie Elena did pull him slightly closer against her.

Saa didn’t need to look around to know that the building the bad men had taken him to was now gone.

Maybe it should have scared him.

But for some reason, it didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the bit longer wait - past few weeks have been very hectic! 
> 
> Hope you liked this one, Liz is definitely not someone you want to get on the wrong side of! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! Hope you all had a good Christmas and New Years - can't believe we're in the 20s!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blowing up a building often draws attention.

Ressler flicked through the file again, knowing that nothing new would come to him.

Half of the stuff in it was most likely incorrect anyway.

Almost six months they’d been chasing… them.

There was hardly anything to show for it. They were in no short supply of tips and leads, but a large proportion were eager citizens who believed themselves to be the next great detective, others simply of the overly paranoid variety and the winning number being the false ones planted by Reddington’s people.

All they knew for certain was that they had been in the Cayman’s around six months ago and had fled into South America directly after.

And that Keen had gone blonde.

Although Ressler was pretty adamant that they had been in France a couple of months ago. There had been a strange robbery involving a dog and a hard drive which his gut said was them.

However due to no security footage and no witnesses seeing their faces they couldn’t make it stick as a sighting.

Why had that hard drive been important?

Ressler slammed the file on his desk and leant back, pressing the palm of his hands against his eyes.

He hated this. He hated this whole thing.

His emotions were being shredded every single day, his mind refusing to shut off.

One minute he was filled with rage that Keen had lied to them all, the next he was terrified that something bad had happened to her, then he was stabbed by her betrayal to the country and this would be followed by the nagging voice that did any of this really make sense.

He had found it best to just try and block it all out.

Instead he poured it all into his task – to find and apprehend Agent Keen.

Everything else, the debate on whether she was innocent or guilty, the argument of how much truth there was to this Cabal narrative. He would deal with that once she was back.

The rest of the team had different opinions on how to handle the situation.

Aram was the easiest to read – he fully believed Keen had been set up by the Cabal and was in the right.

With Navabi, it was hard to tell, but it was clear that she had decided to stick with holding onto her anger. Although, it seemed it was more anger towards the fact that Keen had left them for Reddington rather than stick around and let them deal with it as a team. She had a big issue with anything that seemed like running away from a problem.

Cooper was dealing with this own internal struggle.

He had been there when she shot Connelly. He had tried to stop her. For him it was apparent that although he did think the Cabal was to blame for a large extent of the outcome, he couldn’t quite fit that into place with Keen’s actions. He had always had a soft spot for her which was still there, but he didn’t know how he could justify what she had decided to do.

Ressler was pretty sure the only reason he had fought to come back to the team was to make sure that Keen got brought in alive.

They knew little about the Cabal’s operations, but if someone as high up as Connelly had been involved then it would be a risk to give this task to another agency.

No matter what any of the team thought, they all agreed that Keen deserved to be brought in alive and well.

“Maybe you should think about going outside for lunch today – I hear there’s this amazing thing called sunlight.”

Ressler huffed and sat back up, offering a small smile to the Deputy Attorney General, “I don’t know, I’ve also be told it’s a bit overrated.”

Wright rolled her eyes and stepped into his office, perching slightly against the desk, “Donald you have been copped up in here day in and day out for far too long – it’s not healthy.”

“Just doing my job,” He muttered.

She shook her head, “Sure you are.”

Ressler shrugged, he was used to being told he was too deep into this, it didn’t change anything for him.

His gaze was drawn to a click of heels and he watched as Laurel Hitchin walked past into the main pen.

He looked back to Wright, “Hitchin checking up on us again?”

She glanced over to her colleague, “Not formally – we were both over at the Justice Department and I was heading this way to check in on you so she asked if she could make a stop-over with me.”

Ressler nodded, “And you’re good friends, right?”

Since Hitchin had got involved, he hadn’t been quite sure how to feel about her. She seemed like a decent person. She’d come in giving up an informant that had been swayed into the Cabal’s employment, and through following his activities they’d managed to catch a few lower level players of Reddington’s.

Plus, she didn’t come to the sight very often and when she did, she had never tried to take over operations or make decisions on their behalf.

Honestly this whole secret Cabal thing was making him second guess everyone.

Wright raised an eyebrow, “As I’ve reassured you many times, yes we are. She’s great at her job and loyal to her country – also you know the only reason Harold got reinstated was because she fought for it on my request. You could have far worse allies.”

He raised his hands in front of him, “Sorry, sorry – I don’t mean to be a broken record. It’s just hard… trusting, you know?”

She tilted her head and gave his arm a light squeeze, “After everything, it would be strange if you didn’t find it difficult.”

Hitchin had stepped away from the main pen now and seemed to be ripping into someone on the phone. He wouldn’t want to be the person on the other end of that call.

Wright picked up the report on the top of his income pile, “So you think she might be in Greece?”

Ressler stood up and stretched out his back with a soft groan, “Maybe – probably not anymore and not officially but I think she might have.”

“This off your gut feeling that they were the bank robbers in France?”

He took the report and threw it onto the large stack that had collected on his floor, “It’s what I think would have been their most likely point to decide to leave the continent. From what I know of Reddington, he doesn’t like staying on one land mass for too long.”

“So you still think tracking Reddington, not Keen, is your best way to catch her?”

Ressler folded his arms, his eyes wandering to the small square picture of his old partner stuck to the front of a file.

“Nothing would make Raymond Reddington leave her side,” His tone which would have once been bitter, was now simply resigned, “If she’s alive – he’s with her.”

“And if she’s dead?”

He met her gaze, “Then they’ll be a big body count to let us know.”

Wright sighed, but before she could reply she turned to the sound of hurried steps as Hitchin’s appeared at the door.

“Reven, I need to go – would it be alright if I sent another car for you?”

Wright stood up, “I’ll just come with you, I’ve done my check-in for the week.”

Ressler received a pointed look and the corner of his mouth twitched up, “Fine – I guess I could walk to the food stand across the street for lunch.”

“Brilliant,” She smirked, then turned back to the other woman, “Nothing too serious has happened I hope?”

Hitchin’s chuckled, although there was a tightness around her mouth, “When isn’t something serious? No, it’s just a colleague of mine has decided to do something idiotic that I specifically advised against. So now I have to try and clean up the mess.”

Wright shook her head, “I know that pain,” She lightly squeezed Ressler’s shoulder, “Well, I’ll see you again soon – keep following your instincts, they’re something I do trust.”

He smiled, “Thank you ma’am.”

She walked past Hitchin’s, who gave him a quick nod which he returned, and then they both headed to the elevator.

He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair, glancing to the clock.

It _would_ only take ten minutes to grab something from the food cart.

He sat back down.

There was food in the staff fridge.

Ressler pulled out a map from under his desk and laid it out; it was covered in dots and lines of routes and locations he thought Keen could have taken.

He tapped a finger on the small circle around Athens, the port he felt certain they might have used.

Where could they have gone from Athens?

* * * *

Red tapped a finger against his hand that was still holding a gun, watching through the plastic sheets as Liz consoled the children gathered around their father’s bed.

He inclined his head to Dembe as the man approached but did not take his eyes from the scene.

“Movement?”

“No,” He turned slightly, “But we cannot remain much longer.”

Red hummed and shifted his grip on the weapon.

There was a collapsed burning building filled with dead drug dealers not far from their location. It would have gathered attention.

The local authorities and any few remaining members of the drug operation were not an issue.

It was the eyes of the Cabal who were never too far that held concern.

Such an explosion would not have gone amiss.

If they were fortunate, there would currently be no connections on hand in Cairo and it would take a few days to establish their involvement.

Yet based on track record, there had probably been a linked member already in the city.

Their time in Egypt needed to come to a swift end.

Red let out a sharp breath, “Bring the car into the main lobby – make sure we have people following us discreetly in front and behind when we leave. They stay on us until we drive onto the airstrip.”

Dembe nodded and silently disappeared.

Liz was now talking to her doctor friend; she happened to glance his way and on meeting his gaze she touched Miss Price’s arm and led her out of the makeshift room.

He looked forward to learning how she had come to have a doctor on-hand in Cairo at a later date.

Liz expression softened as she came to stand next to him; her features now lacked a strung tension so he assumed there was positive news.

“Madu is going to be okay,” She grinned, “Mads managed to stop the bleeding and fix the tear.”

The doctor shrugged, snapping off her latex gloves and throwing them into an open trashcan, “He’s lucky it hadn’t sliced through anything overly important. He won’t be able to do much sports anytime soon but a week’s bedrest and he’ll be back on his feet.”

Red inclined his head to her, “We are most grateful for your assistance Miss Price.”

She scoffed, “Ugh don’t go formal on me – it’s just Maddie.” She gestured to the sparse building they were in, “Also he’s good to transport out of this place. He wakes up here he’s probably going to think those thugs did get him – you’re not really one for warm and homely are you?”

He chuckled, “I will be sure to request some paintings for the walls next time.”

Maddie shook her head, “Next time,” She muttered, flinging an arm around Liz’s shoulder, “What strange world do you now live in that pop-up surgeries are just a casual next time?”

Liz raised an eyebrow, “One where you get a lovely big bag of money.”

The doctor laughed and clapped her hands together, “Oh you do know how to reach a woman’s heart.”

Red reached back and handed over the bag, filled with his usual payment as well as a bit extra seeing how she was a personal friend of Liz’s, “If it is ever needed, may we call on your services again?”

Maddie shrugged, “Hey, if Liz calls – I come.” She pointed a finger at him, “Just Liz that is, don’t think you can pull me into all of your shady business. If she asks for me, I’ll know it’s something I won’t mind doing.”

“She is the better of us,” He turned to her, “And now that your friend is stable, I’m afraid I must insist we depart. Our presence here only places the family in danger.”

It was not the family’s safety he held concern for but he knew it was where her priorities lay.

She frowned but nodded, “I know,” She looked up at him, “You’re going to have someone check in on them for a while though? Just to make sure nobody else tries to come for them?”

He smiled, “You have most certainly removed the operation from play and guaranteed Mr Essam and his children’s safety. Yet, of course I will ensure that my words hold true.”

The doctor rolled her eyes, “He speaks like he’s in a Victorian book,” She nudged her friend, “That really does it for you?”

Red bit back a smirk as Liz lightly slapped her shoulder, “It’s like you’re still in high school.” She met his gaze with no sign of embarrassment, “I’ll just say bye to the kids.”

His eyes followed her as she slipped back under the plastic and gathered the children near to her, placing the smallest on her lap and wrapping her arms over the other two.

They would always hold the memory of the kind Spanish woman who had saved them.

Although knowing his companion, those boys would see a collection of visits over the years as they grew.

If she was going to keep insisting on personas, she would soon have to start writing a list.

“Don’t hurt her.”

Red turned to the young doctor, who had her arms folded and was fixing him with a cold glare.

He offered a slight smile, “I can ensure you – that is something I will never intentionally do.”

She clicked her tongue, “With people like you, it’s the unintentional pain that hurts the most.”

There was little he could say to that.

“Look,” She sighed, stepping closer and lowering her voice, “Weirdly, all of this. This criminal life you’ve dragged her into – it actually really suits her. Like I knew her when she was an agent and sure she was great, she really enjoyed what she was doing. But here…” She nodded towards where Liz was now writing something with help from the children, “Here, she’s thriving. Helping people with no limitations, that’s her thing, like me.”

Maddie held his gaze, it bore through him with a sense of pity that made him uncomfortable, “Just… make sure she doesn’t lose herself because of it – make sure she doesn’t become like you.”

He swallowed, his voice falling to a faint breath, “That has always been my aim.”

The doctor nodded and patted his arm once, then stepped away and wrapped her friend into a tight hug as she came back out.

Red looked away as the women said their farewells.

He was glad to know Liz still had fiercely loyal friends who were not connected to him.

It provided a slight comfort to the thought of her safety if he were to no longer be around.

He reached up and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek when Liz approached him, “Are you ready?”

She squeezed his hand and placed a light kiss on his palm as her answer. Stepping past him and leaving the family and her friend behind without looking back.

Red did look back, to give the doctor a final nod.

She returned it before stepping back to be with her patient.

That man, those children - their lives would have been torn apart if not for Elizabeth Keen.

On his own, in the manner that he used to travel the world, he would not have even known of their existence.

He was grateful that was no longer the case.

As soon as he joined Liz in the back seat of the car Dembe pulled out onto the street.

Checking in the rear-view mirror he caught a faded blue van leaving its parked position to join the traffic a couple of vehicles down. In front, he noted two motorcycles make their way from the side of the street to swerve between the cars.

It wasn’t his first choice of escort but they would have to do.

“Less than fifteen minutes to the plane would be ideal if you could Dembe.” He muttered, giving into the fidgeting urge to turn and glance out of the back window.

His friend didn’t bother to reply.

Meaning he felt the unease as well.

Something wasn’t right.

They should have dropped off Essam and left immediately – but Liz wouldn’t have allowed that, there had been no point in even wording the request.

For how much he admired her heart for others, he couldn’t deny it made matters slightly more complex than when he had worked with her kept at an arm’s length.

Yet, it did bring out an intense fire in her that was addictive to view first hand.

Liz had her gun out, lightly tapping it against her knee, “So, our chance that the Cabal have a blind spot in Cairo right now?”

If Red believed in jinxes he would have sighed at the question.

He caught her eye, “Would you prefer reality or optimism?”

A shot rang out.

Red cursed and they both ducked down as another smashed the back window.

Jinxes.

Liz immediately glanced back up and fired off four bullets; a painful crash and squealing tires indicated that she made her mark.

She looked to him with a dry chuckle, “I probably shouldn’t have asked.”

He raised an eyebrow as he pointed his gun past her ear; she dodged to the side as he fired, the bullet hitting a motorcyclist who had just pulled up next to the car but not dislodging them.

The second did the trick.

The roar of engines surrounded them as three more weaved through the traffic, making it past their escorts who were managing to slightly slim down the numbers that were getting near them.

He had not expected the Cabal’s capability to dispatch this many operatives at such a speed.

Shots continued to ring out from all directions, their pursuers responsible for more than they were as they kept getting trapped ducked down on the seats.

Horns blared as Dembe jumped onto the other side of the road, swerving between oncoming traffic like he was in a trivial car racing movie.

“How are there so many?” Liz snapped, cursing as a bullet grazed her shoulder and returning the gesture with a clean head shot.

Red fired two more, “I don’t know.”

“They must have already been here,” She ducked down, “This can’t be from hearing about the building.”

“Most likely someone already knew we were here and the building sent a flare.”

She went to shoot but pulled back as a civilian car swerved into her path in panic, “If the Cabal knew, then Hitchin should know, so shouldn’t the taskforce too?” The car moved and she fired, “Why aren’t they the ones chasing us?”

“Perhaps Laurel has less of a grip on her toys than she thought.”

Tensions were definitely running high if a senior Cabal member was ordering hits without Laurel’s approval.

She wanted them alive, at least at first to gain information from them.

Laurel was never one to waste good resources before they had been dried up.

This had to be someone else.

“Raymond.”

Dembe suddenly pulled a sharp 180, reaching out of his window and grabbing onto a motorcyclist’s weapon as the car spun. The bike and rider went flying as they lurched forward, barrelling past the rest of the bikes.

“Look.”

He threw the weapon onto the back seat.

Red picked it up and gritted his teeth.

Of course.

Liz changed her ammo and knelt up to fire off cover as the bikes turned around and started to shorten their distance once more, “Care to share?”

He swung his door open, sending it and a biker who hadn’t changed direction quick enough flying, “Peter.”

She glanced down, “Our Director of CIA co-ops Peter?”

His shots were dodged, “That’s the one.”

Liz latched onto his arm as they swung off the main road and into a side street, stopping him from piling out of the giant gap where his door had been.

She spat in fury as her leg slid over the broken glass covering the seats, “Don’t you dare tell me these guys are CIA!”

A grunt came from the front seat and Red’s head snapped round to see blood gushing from Dembe’s neck.

True to the man’s sheer power of determination his grip on the wheel didn’t lessen.

Red swung around and took out the nearest biker as he heard Liz curse and clamber into the front seat.

He could hear the sound of clothes tearing as he reloaded with one hand and continued providing cover with the other.

“Red! CIA?” She shouted.

“Technically.” He ignored the sensation of his hat finally whipping off his head and out of the car, “Special branch. Entirely dark. No records – they do what they’re told, no questions asked.”

Her hands were red with blood as they briefly appeared in his vision and grabbed a headscarf from under his legs.

“So he’s screwed himself! The taskforce will find out about this!”

This was the last street. They were almost at the airstrip.

Fortunate, as his guns had just run out.

He ducked back down and took over placing pressure on Dembe’s neck, “No records Lizzie. Nothing they find would link back to him or the CIA.”

A bullet whipped right between them; Liz tried to shoot but growled when it clicked empty as well.

She just threw the entire thing at the bike instead.

Unsurprisingly, it hit the wheel and threw the rider over the handlebar.

“This is why everyone hates the CIA.” Her eyes widened and she grabbed at the wheel, “Dembe! Stay awake!”

Red wrapped his free arm over the seat and around the man’s chest as he slumped forward, “You are not leaving me for a little cut my friend.”

The airstrip was right ahead; gate open and plane engine running.

The car was not slowing down.

“Brakes Lizzie!”

She cursed and ducked to try and move Dembe’s foot from the gas whilst still trying to keep the wheel straight, “Can’t – reach.”

It seemed they were going to do Peter’s job for him.

“Wait! There!” Her head popped back up and they were no longer gaining speed.

But they weren’t stopping.

Red shot her a look, “I said brakes!”

“Alright!” She snapped and went back down.

He tightened the pressure on Dembe’s wound, hoping they didn’t get one last lucky shot.

Red frowned.

There hadn’t been any shots in a few seconds.

He turned his head –

A car piled into their side.

He felt his body leave the seat.

Pain flooded through him.

Metal screeched.

Bells rung.

He couldn’t see.

Where was he.

Lizzie.

Where.

A scream.

Her scream.

Sight flickered between the darkness.

She was there.

He tried to reach out.

She was getting smaller.

Dark shapes were dragging her.

Lizzie.

His fingers curled.

Reaching for her hand that was limp.

Trailing against the road.

It was lifted.

Her hand disappeared.

An engine sounded.

Darkness crawled back.

Lizzie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been longer since an update, things are a bit crazier at the moment so chapters might not be as regular as before, but I will keep going!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one, let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz gets some closure.

“The orders were to take her alive…”

Voices rung in her ear.

Blurred figures came in and out of focus and she struggled to open her eyes.

“You hit her!”

Her body was screaming.

Red. Dembe.

She couldn’t think.

Her vision slipped away.

* * * *

A harsh jolt kicked her awake.

She squinted as she tried to gather her surroundings.

A truck. She was moving.

Her head pounded.

A sticky substance clung to her face.

Most likely blood.

A bad head wound.

The screech of brakes. She toppled forward.

Gun shots. Shouting.

Her eyes fell closed again just as the truck doors were torn open.

* * * *

Waves.

A boat.

Her face didn’t feel sticky anymore.

She tried to move her hand.

It was wrapped in something.

Bandages.

One wrapped around her ribs too.

She was laying on a soft bed.

She needed to stay awake.

She needed to find the others.

A creak of wooden steps.

A gentle hand running through her hair.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

She knew that voice.

Where did she know it?

Her eyes were heavy.

She faded back into unconsciousness.

* * * *

Liz jerked awake.

She grabbed for her gun.

Obviously, it wasn’t there.

Her eyes scanned the room, analysing her surroundings.

She was in a large bed. Soft sheets, tightly tucked under. Possibly a hotel room. An evacuation sign was stuck to the door to the side. Definitely a hotel.

Her head spun as she pushed herself to her feet. A stiffness in her legs informing her that they hadn’t been used in a while.

She slowly went over to the door. The language on the sign wasn’t one she knew but she was fairly confident it was Middle-Eastern. She tried the door handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked.

Liz searched the rest of the room, speeding up as her limbs readjusted to movement again.

The wardrobe and drawers were filled with clothes all in her size.

On the desk lay a pile of books. A couple of favourites of hers from childhood and the others, ones that she had often meant to read but hadn’t got around to.

Well he wasn’t trying to be covert.

There was a glass door leading out to a balcony, that one was unlocked.

She poked her head outside. Her room was part of a large collection curving around an open courtyard with two large pools and multiple bars. A few guests were swimming, others sunbathing in what must be the late-afternoon sun judging from its position.

It looked like a cliché upper-class holiday resort. Designed for an influx of rich tourists but quieter than expected during the high season.

Turkey would be her guess.

Liz grabbed some clean clothes and went into the bathroom. Thankfully, she could still feel grime all over her skin which meant he hadn’t taken the liberty to do more than pat her down with a wet cloth.

Stripping out of the old clothes, she examined her injuries in the mirror. There was a large bandage around her ribs which had been changed fairly recently. A large gash along her right leg which had been stitched up. Multiple smaller lacerations all over the rest of her body. Her left hand was in a brace; her fingers were stiff to move but the action didn’t cause pain. She tapped along the side of her head above her ear and felt another large gash that had been stitched.

From the state of the injuries the crash had probably happened three weeks ago. Maybe more.

Liz scanned her arms; she wouldn’t have been unconscious for that long without…

There they were. Small needle marks. It must have been the good stuff because her haziness had already cleared away.

She removed the brace and bandages before stepping into the shower.

Closing her eyes, she turned her face up to the spray.

The sound of gunshots rang in her ears. The memory of Dembe’s blood on her hands. The impact of the car.

Red reaching out for her as he lay half slumped out of a broken window.

She snapped back. Wiping her hands over her face and through her hair.

They were fine. They had all been in the same crash and here she was. If she could make it then there was no question that they wouldn’t as well.

Now she just had to find where they were.

Getting abducted was quite the inconvenience.

Re-wrapping her injuries with the first aid kit that had been left on the sink and giving her hair a quick blow-dry, she slipped on a light green dress and a pair of low black heels.

Taking the largest handbag in the wardrobe, she stuffed in a pair of jeans and a shirt along with the first aid kit.

There was a pair of sunglasses identical to ones she had worn on many holidays so she rested those on her head.

Some jewellery lay on the sideboard so she added a necklace and earrings for effect.

Placing her hand on the phone, she paused.

Liz allowed herself three seconds.

Three seconds to take a deep breath.

She could do this.

She knew this would have to happen at some point.

She was the one in control.

The dial tone rang for a moment before she pressed the button for reception.

“Room service, how may I help?”

Liz smiled, letting the expression melt into her tone, “Oh hello, I’m very sorry about this but I’ve finely woken up and have seemed to have misplaced my husband – would you happen to know where I might find him?”

The man’s voice was one of neutral customer service, “Of course Mrs Edwards, I am glad to hear you are feeling better. I believe he went to the restaurant terrace – would you still like to have the dinner ordered to your room or will you eat down there?”

Edwards, not particularly imaginative.

“I think I feel up to coming down,” This bit she wasn’t completely sure about but she had a strong gut feeling, “Also I seemed to have lost the key for the second room we booked – I’ve left something in there, would you mind sending someone up to let me in?”

She bit her lip.

The voice didn’t alter, “That’s no problem Mrs Edwards, I’ll send someone now.”

“Thank you.” She hung up with a slight grin.

Point to her.

A few minutes later there was a light knock on the door.

“You can let yourself in.” She called out, pretending to busy herself with her bag.

There was a click of a lock and a man opened the door, politely holding it open and waiting for her.

She followed him to a room at the opposite end of the corridor and he simply nodded at her thanks as he let her inside and left.

The room was untouched.

Not surprising as she assumed her many hours sleeping had involved a pair of eyes watching her from the corner at all times.

She carefully followed the edge of the carpet, scanning for any signs of disturbance.

Seeing none, she opened the wardrobe; which like the one in her room, was connected to the main floor.

There was no carpet inside, just the wooden panels. At first glance it also seemed normal, but something caught her eye in the far-left corner and she knelt down to look closer.

One of the nails, it was just slightly further out than the others.

Using the small pair of scissors from the first aid kit she managed to twist the nail out.

Prying up the floor board, she had a strong rush of déjà vu as she picked up the compact wooden box underneath.

Unfortunately, there was no gun. But there was a decent amount of cash in a few currencies along with a handful of passports. Not ones that she could use but they’d sell for a tidy sum – plus it would screw with him.

Putting the box into her handbag she replaced the board and made her way down to the main lobby.

With directions from the main desk, she walked out past the pool and towards a more secluded section of terrace overlooking the ocean.

There he was.

A waiter passed by and as he did Liz reached out and lightly touched his sleeve.

He stopped and turned to face her, “May I get you something Madam?”

She let her expression fall into one of mild anxiousness, “Not exactly – you see,” She cast a brief glance over to the occupied table, “Well, I’ve just received proof of my husband’s affair this morning and…”

Her voice shook and she closed her eyes.

The waiter had put down his tray and offered her a napkin.

“Thank you,” She took it and dapped her eyes, “I shouldn’t put you in this position, it’s just I need to tell him I want a divorce once and for all. This is it. Just – he can get so angry sometimes, I…”

She let the sentence trail off and the waiter placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice slipping into genuine sympathy rather than professional tolerance, “Madam, tell me what I can do to help you.”

She placed her hand over his and gave it a light squeeze, “You’re so kind. I was just hoping, perhaps if you keep an eye on us from afar. Then maybe if I signal you as if I was ordering a drink you know to come over and intervene? Hopefully it should all be fine but it would really help if I knew someone was watching out for me.”

The waiter nodded, “Of course. It’s no problem at all. I have a sister who was in a similar situation once, I will keep a close eye.”

Liz smiled, “Thank you so much…”

“Jules.” He returned the expression.

“Jules,” She murmured, “A lovely name for a lovely man.”

Giving his hand one last pat she continued over to the table.

She could do this.

He was still looking out over the ocean, his fingers fiddling with the handle of a small expresso cup.

Without ceremony, she slid into the chair opposite.

“Hello Tom.”

His head snapped around and she savoured the look of shock on his face before he quickly masked it.

“Liz,” He chuckled and shook his head, “I shouldn’t be surprised, nobody can keep you contained for long, even when it’s for your own well-being.”

The sun had treated him well. The dark tan making him appear more continental; ambiguously European.

She wondered how long he had been trailing her – most likely from the start.

It was a bit disconcerting that neither herself or her companions had noticed their shadow.

A stark reminder that her husband had just been a very intricate character.

That this man was a stranger.

“Yes, you’ve patched me up very nicely.” She took a sip of his expresso, it was stronger than he used to take it, “And I’m sure dragging me across a few countries was a great help in my healing process.”

Tom leant forward, his eyes softening in the way they used to when he was vying to get his own way, “I saved you. The CIA, they wanted you dead then and there - we had to disappear.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Red and Dembe? I suppose they didn’t need saving.”

He let out a light sigh, breaking her gaze and looking to the table. His hand reached out to touch hers but he held back and let his fingers curl in on themselves instead.

When he looked back up, there was a layer of grief mixed with pity.

It was strange seeing these emotions from the outside. Outside the perfect little life she had once known.

He was so good. Even now, a part of her was tempted to believe what he would say next.

Yet, a stronger part of her recognised the same expression she had seen when he had told her his grandmother had passed away unexpectedly in the night. That they would no longer be taking the trip abroad to finally visit her.

The grandmother, who it later turned out, was a photo from an outdated knitting magazine.

“Liz, they…” He wiped a hand over his mouth, “Look I know it’s an understatement to say those two and I didn’t get on –“

She couldn’t hold back the scoff.

Tom inclined his head, “Yes, I know that’s phrasing it lightly. But believe me when I say, that for your sake, this is something I didn’t want to happen like this.”

She straightened in her chair, “What did you do?”

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything,” His tone smoothed out again, “Liz – when I got there… they were already dead.”

A crash of pain tore through her on hearing the words spoken even though she knew they were unlikely to be true.

But she made sure to let that pain show on her face.

He continued, speaking gently as if talking to a wounded animal, “The crash – it was a mess. You barely survived it. There was just so much blood, there was nothing I could do for them. I had to get you back and… and I think that’s what he would have wanted too – isn’t it?”

“Don’t talk like you know him,” She spat, fixing him with a sharp glare.

Tom raised his hands, conceding to her, “Sorry, of course.”

A silence fell between them.

Liz let it linger, turning to look out across the ocean so her hair fell across the side of her face; seemingly attempting to hide her distress.

Truthfully, hiding some distress.

Could he be telling the truth?

Her memory was hazy, she’d been half unconscious.

There’d been so much blood.

Had she seen him move?

A long time passed, probably close to ten minutes.

She heard a light clink as he took a sip of his drink.

“I can help you.”

She let out a hollow laugh, wiping a thumb under her eye, “Why on earth would I want your help?”

“Because you need it.”

Her hand on the table clenched and she pulled it in to cross her arms. Gaze still fixed out to the ocean.

The table rattled slightly as he shifted his weight, resting forward on his elbows, “Liz – the Cabal is still out there. They still want you dead and out of the way. I know you’re good – believe me, I know – but can you honestly say this is something you can do single handily?”

She flicked her head around with a sharp smile, “Guess I won’t know until I try.”

He sighed, “Do you really want to let them win? Die with your pride and let them carry on manipulating the world for their own purpose?”

Her jaw clenched and she held his gaze.

After a few seconds she broke away first.

“Let’s say I did take up your offer,” She muttered, reaching out to fiddle with salt shaker on the table, “What would you even know about the situation?”

Tom scraped his chair forward so his clasped hands were just a few inches from her own, “Oh I know a lot.”

“What? Snippets you’ve heard from following us –“ She let herself stumble on the word, taking a shaky breath, “ – me around? Notes from looking through my trash?” She shook her head, “Maybe you can help me make a nice journal recapping what I’ve already gathered.”

“You think I can’t gather information myself?” He smirked, “Liz – you haven’t had the opportunity to see just how good I am.”

“I can see the real you is a lot cockier than the old model.”

Tom chuckled, “Is that a positive note?”

She let the corner of her mouth quirk up before quickly schooling it, “Just a note.”

A grin had settled on his face, this time a genuine one. Which she could tell as it wasn’t one that she recognised; it was sharper. There was a slight coldness imbedded in it.

“Well I’d better give you a little taster then,” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper, “That CIA Director’s account you were waiting to hear about in Cairo – the info came about while you were recovering, your sources were right about it being important.”

Liz’s features remained neutral despite the surprise at his words.

They hadn’t known the account was linked to Peter. If they had they would have been a lot more careful.

No wonder the CIA had already been in the city.

They would have arrived as soon as questions had started to be asked about the account and then she’d gone ahead and shot a flare for them at the warehouse.

Red had decided to look into the account on a whim, a source had said it was likely linked to a high player in the Cabal. A high player, not one of the main players.

She wasn’t sure if you’d call that good or bad luck.

Tom slid her the paper, she opened and read it as he continued, “It seems that for quite some time the Director’s been skimming funds from the Cabal, creating a nice little Egg somewhere for a day he decides he needs to cut and bail. Obviously, this account doesn’t hold those funds, but it does show one path which they’ve been transferred through. There’s probably a couple of other ways he’s got on the go as well – guess he doesn’t trust his organisation’s abilities as much as he’d like to let on.”

The numbers were small individually, coming in from lots of different places but together it made up a pretty large amount, “Does the Director know I have this?”

He shrugged, “He’ll suspect but the evidence will say you don’t. I killed the guy who gave me the info using one of his CIA operative’s weapons – so it’ll seem like his men got to the leak before it was comprised. This account will have already been closed but it’s very unlikely he will have collapsed his entire skimming system over this, he’ll want to keep those funds running.”

The casual way he spoke of killing a man, the words crawled under her skin.

Death, she had seen more of that she ever wished around Red.

Yet, with him, it never felt disconnected. She could sense the responsibility he felt to the action. An understanding of the weight of his choice.

She would say with certainty that he could provide some level of information about every individual he had personally killed over the years.

Tom. Tom did not have that.

He spoke as someone who couldn’t care less who they had killed. Didn’t see any importance in a life. A person was just an obstacle that needed to be moved out of the way.

She refolded the paper and put it in her bag, “Well it was kind of you to pick up my mail whilst you had me drugged.”

His smile tightened, “So?”

“You mean you’ve got nothing else?”

He tilted his head, “Not yet. But you and me – working together.” His voice lowered, an almost manic hiss to his words, “We’ll bring this organisation to their knees.”

Liz slowly nodded, scanning his face as he drew nearer, as if there was a gravity pulling him to her.

She narrowed her eyes, “Why?”

Tom blinked, straightening back up, “What do you mean?”

“Why do you want to help me?”

She’d shot him. Held him hostage. She was no longer of any benefit to him. No longer a target or a way to get an insight into the FBI.

What was his play?

He looked at her with confusion, “Why do I want to…? Liz – you’re my wife, I love you. Of course I’m going to help you. I will always be here to help you.”

She had to take a moment to process his words.

It was bizarre.

Watching him stare at her expectedly, waiting for her… to what?

Swoon into his arms?

He honestly believed what he was saying.

Liz could see it in his eyes, in the way his fingers kept twitching to touch her, in ease of tension to his posture as soon as she had sat down.

This man had convinced himself that he was in love with her.

Well wasn’t this a piece of ironic twisted Stockholm Syndrome.

However, it was of little import.

The main thing was that she was fairly certain he didn’t know anything else that would be of use to her.

There was no need to pretend anymore.

Her back snapped straight as she pushed her chair further from the table so he was no longer in reaching distance.

He tensed at the action and from the wariness that crossed his face, she could tell her anger had flashed into her eyes.

“I was married to a _character_ named Tom Keen,” Her tone was cold, her fingers digging into her leg to stop herself from drawing any attention, “You, Phelps – I don’t know who _you_ are.”

He flinched at that name as if she had hit him.

Good.

Then he hardened, catching her gaze with an anger that was simmering under the surface, “Liz – I am Tom Keen. He is me. You think being married to you, being with you for that long as him – as a version of me can just be thrown aside because of a different name?”

“A different name!” She wiped a hand over her mouth, “It wasn’t a different name! It was a different person! Tom Keen doesn’t exist! It was a fabrication – I didn’t marry a real person!”

“I am real!” He snapped, “And what we had was real –“

“Don’t even –“

“I get it – my name was a lie,” He raised his hands, “I’m not arguing that it all started as a con but you know that the emotions we had, what we had as two people regardless of names or history, _was_ something real!”

Liz’s teeth grinded together as she forced down the urge to scream, “How could anything be real when I only knew someone you were pretending to be!”

“Because part of me wasn’t pretending! I was acting but there were things – parts of the real me that were there, that you know.”

“Like what! Go on tell me what great insight I know about you!”

He paused.

“Hudson!” He quickly recovered, “I chose him, you remember? You really wanted the sheep dog but as soon as I saw Hudson, I begged you to let us take him home. It took me three days to convince you because you had always been fixated on getting a sheep dog ever since you watched Babe as a kid.”

Tom leant forward, softening his tone, “If none of the real me was there. If I was only a mask. Why did I fight so hard for a dog that I wanted because it reminded me of the one by the orphanage I grew up in? Why didn’t I just give you what you wanted to make you happy and more compliant?”

Liz raised an eyebrow with a sharp glare, “If you really had been Tom Keen – you would have given me that sheep dog _because_ it made me happy.”

He groaned and pressed his palms against his eyes, “For goodness –“ He threw his arms out, “Fine! I’ll get you a sheep dog, I’ll get you a million dogs – what does it matter? The point is our marriage isn’t just some scam and I’m not going to let you just throw it away.”

“_Was_.” She hissed, pointing a finger in his face, “Our marriage _was _just some scam and as you have seemed to have forgotten – it’s been annulled and doesn’t exist anymore so this whole debate of yours is pointless!”

Tom scoffed, “Annulled – so that’s why I never saw any divorce papers, how’d you swing that one? Your ex-FBI buddies?”

Rage flooded through her veins and she snapped her hand out, twisting his wrist into a hold that would break his bone if he tried to move it.

She felt a gun suddenly press against her leg under the table but she didn’t care.

“Yes annulled.” She spat, “You know why? Because not _once_ while I was married did I sleep with you…”

Her voice started to shake; she could feel the heat in her eyes as tears threatened to fall.

She had to say it.

She had to make him know.

She had to admit it had happened.

“ – I just…” Her grip on his wrist tightened as she tried to get the words out, the gun was pressing harder against her leg but it didn’t matter, “I was just… I was just raped by a stranger.”

She choked on the end of the sentence as a tear escaped.

She had said it.

The wrist in her grip pulled loose and she heard the crack as his bone snapped but then her arm was being grabbed by the same hand and she was pulled forward. The gun now digging into her stomach still out of sight.

“Don’t say that! Don’t you dare say that!” His tone was pure fury but his expression was one of heartbreak, “I would never hurt you! I’ve never done that… I would never!”

Liz laughed as she tried to blink back anymore tears, but there was no humour in it, “What on earth do you think consent is?” She raised an eyebrow, “You think it’s just this nice little clear cut yes and that’s it? There’s nothing else to it?”

She leant forward, feeling the bruise from the gun forming, “All those times – I had given my consent to sleep with Tom Keen; school teacher, boy next door type, a man whose biggest worries were that his wife worked a dangerous job.”

Her next words were sharp, concise; she wanted him to know what he had done, “I have never given my consent to sleep with Jacob Phelps.”

She saw it hit him.

For a moment, she could swear she saw a wave of horror flash over his features.

The press of the gun disappeared but the hand remained clutched to her arm.

His voice was hollow, “But – but the boat?”

Liz grimaced, roughly wiping her eyes, “Really? The boat? Okay sure – if that’s what you want then grasp onto the one time when in my whirlwind of confusion and distress, I made a stupid mistake and tried to cling onto something that used to be real.”

“The name…” He looked to her with fear; not a fear of pain, but the fear that comes when something you have clung to so strongly is slipping away, “You’ve kept going by Elizabeth Keen.”

She shook her arm free with no resistance, “Because it’s mine to claim. It doesn’t belong to you.”

_Congratulations Agent Keen._

“I earnt my role as an agent under that name.”

_I now pronounce you Mr and Mrs Keen._

“I had a husband under that name.”

_I will only speak with Elizabeth Keen._

“A whole chapter of my life existed under that name.”

Liz raised her chin, looking down at the man crumbling in front of her, “And that chapter is still going – with the name Keen rightly, and solely belonging to me.”

She drew in a deep breath.

The air felt fresher than it had in a long time.

She was Elizabeth Keen.

That was her choice.

Tom had curled in on himself; his broken wrist lying lifelessly on the table, his gaze fixed on an insect crawling across the tablecloth.

He had spent so long chasing her.

Apparently, it had never occurred to him that he was chasing something that he could never catch.

Liz ran a hand through her hair, “You would probably assume this is now the part where I kill you – or make some big threat on those lines.

He twitched and she knew that although she couldn’t feel it, that gun was aimed at her again.

Even in his twisted grief he couldn’t bypass his trained instincts.

She shrugged, “But the thing is – I honestly don’t care enough to do any of that. You have truly become so insignificant to me that I’m not going to waste my time or cover by trying to kill you.”

“Don’t get me wrong – if I ever come across you and you’re trying to kill me or someone I care about, or frankly, absolutely any other partially innocent human being. I will put a bullet in your head.”

Liz watched him, waiting to see if he had any final response to that.

But he didn’t move, didn’t look up to meet her gaze.

She nodded to herself, stood up and began to leave.

A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

There it was. One final plea.

Liz turned back and was met by the same spiteful calm that she’d seen when he had finally blown his cover in their living room.

“He hired me.”

Silence fell.

She didn’t move.

His mouth curled into a cruel smirk, “Your precious Red – he hired me. Wanted to know all about you; where you were going, what you were doing.”

This was the secret he had kept for when there was nothing left. When there was nothing else he could do but try to make her hurt as much as he did.

“You’re lying.”

He chuckled, “Put a contract out, I took it – decent money. But then I got too close, I fell for you, wanted to marry you – well he couldn’t have that. He also had a sick obsession with you, he couldn’t bear to see you happy with something he hadn’t arranged. So, he came waltzing into our lives, playing the hero when he was the one who had put the villain onto the board.”

Liz shook her head, her words falling out as a whisper, “I don’t believe you.”

He matched her level, “Why was he so adamant to get you away from me? To turn you against me? How did he know who I was? How could he know unless he was the one who hired me?”

“He knows things – that’s what he does.”

“Not that many things - I’m good. I’d been in position for years – if he knew without being the one who hired me why didn’t he come to light and tell you sooner?”

She looked at him with wide eyes, “What’s your proof?”

He stretched up, “I’m the proof.”

Her head lowered, pulled into his space, “That’s nothing.”

“He betrayed you Liz.”

“You’re making it up.”

“He lied to you.”

“You want me to hate him.”

“He lied to you as much as I did – more than I did.”

“You’re twisting everything.”

“Ask him yourself!”

Liz snapped back up, the pained lost expression immediately gone, “So he is alive.”

That’s what she’d been waiting for.

She subtly waved her free hand.

Tom gaped up at her. His mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to think of something else to say. To work out how his last secret, his biggest ammunition, wasn’t having the effect he had counted on.

His brows drew into a frown, “Does it matter? I’m telling you he betrayed you. He hired me!”

She tilted her head with a mocking pout, “Oh honey – I know he hired you. I discovered that when I first learnt who you really were, you think that’s something I would just sit around and wait for him to tell me?”

The sound of multiple footsteps was nearing.

“Which is why, I also know that he hired you to watch me – and when you got too close he fired you and you took it upon yourself to take a new contract, this one from Berlin, so you could keep your nice cosy job.”

Almost there.

“It’s information he hasn’t told me – which is annoying. But unlike you, he’s never lied to me about it.

One final bit.

“Which is why…” Leaning down, she put her lips near his ear to whisper, “I choose him.”

He lunged for her just as Jules and a couple of security descended on him.

“I never want to see you again!” She cried, clinging onto the waiter’s arm and hiding behind him slightly, “You can’t bully me anymore.”

He snarled, grappling against the men struggling to hold him back.

Liz let Jules lead her away as a few more members of staff ran past to try and help detain the out of control guest, “Are you alright madam?”

As they neared the lobby, she could hear the scream behind her, “He’ll destroy you! You think you’re safe? He’ll be your death!”

She patted his arm, wiping invisible tears from her eyes, “Oh I’ll be fine.” The noise disappeared as the doors shut behind them, “I’ll go and stay with family for a bit.”

The man gave her a sympathetic smile, “That is good – you will be safe there?”

“Actually,” Liz frowned and reached into her bag, “I think – well you see I found this in his belongings in our room – and I think it’s something the police need to see.”

She handed over one of Tom’s fake passports.

“It scared me – I don’t even know who he is,” She looked up at the man through her lashes, “I can’t deal with this right now, could you…?”

Jules nodded and took the passport, “Of course – we will contact the police and give them your details if they have questions for you.”

She leant up and kissed his cheek, “You are so kind, my information is all with you at the desk.”

Lifting her head and taking a deep breath she gave him one more soft smile, “I will remember you Jules.”

Without looking back, she left the hotel.

There was nothing more she needed to deal with in that building.

She had her closure.

However, as it was unlikely that he ended on the same page, giving them the passport would buy her some time if he did decide to keep following her.

It wasn’t a major concern though.

By that point, she will have found Red.

Because he was alive.

And it was her turn to go and seek him out.

Hopefully.

Once she worked out where on earth in Turkey she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember first watching the show and when it was revealed that Tom indeed was a character that had been hired all that time, the greylines of the extent to which Liz had been violated was the first thing I had issue with. And was an element that was never really mentioned - I wanted to give a chance to show how that would probably have a serious effect on a person, that it would be something that they might struggle with.
> 
> Also of course we needed to see Liz get the chance to throw Tom to the curb, because that was never an idea for a healthy relationship. 
> 
> On a more reality note, I hope you're all doing alright during this mad Covid time. Hope you're managing to get by if you're in isolation or quarantine and you're staying safe if you still have to be out and about. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know your thoughts. I'm going to try to keep on getting more written so I've got things to do and you've got things to read!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search is on.

Trash scattered across the alley with a crash as a body was shoved through the containers and up against the wall.

“You come to me after a week with no more than when I sent you out?”

Red’s hand tightened against the man’s throat as he spoke, yet his tone was eerily monotone. His expression almost curious.

The young man was wise to not take this as a good sign.

“I’m… sorry!” His words wheezed as he tried to speak around a diminishing windpipe, “Nobody’s… seen her. I’ve asked everyone. After… the abandoned car in… the south. There’s no… trace.”

Red knew his hand was still contracting.

He could see the man’s face deepening its shade of red. His eyes starting to roll up into the back of his head.

He could also see the Honda, with a scorched memory of flames that had consumed any evidence of who had taken Liz from Peter’s men, signalling the dead end in his search.

Almost two weeks ago they had followed the trail, only to fall short in an inconsequential district in the south of Cairo.

He should have been there straight away.

He should have found that vehicle whilst it was still burning and kept tracking her.

All that wasted time.

“Raymond.”

Red reflexively hit away the hand that fell onto his arm, resulting in the man in his grip falling to the ground with a desperate gasp.

Which was the purpose of his companion’s action.

“I apologise Dembe, am I straining my body again?” He raised an eyebrow, stepping into his friend’s space, “Perhaps I should go and lie down? Or would you care for me to spend some hours ensuring that this man is attended to at a hospital? I would hate for you to think I was placing Lizzie’s safety above anyone else.”

Dembe did not react, “Decreasing our available informants will not assist in finding Elizabeth.”

Red’s fist curled in on itself and he shook with the urge to lash out.

Yet even now, he would never hit the man.

He spun away and punched the dumpster instead, relishing in the pain that burst through his hand that had yet to fully heal from its fractures.

Taking a long breath, he composed himself and straightened his jacket.

Losing control did not achieve outcomes.

“We will try Omar,” He pulled some money from his wallet and handed it down to the man still curled up against the wall, “I’m sure there is someone I can inform on in exchange for him withholding the desire to kill me long enough to answer a few questions.”

Red exited the alley and turned in the direction of their current hotel. A moment of research would be required to choose an individual Omar would have a greater interest in than himself.

Footsteps fell into place next to him but he did not turn to acknowledge them.

“Raymond, is this wise?”

His voice was sharp, “No new information. None. That should not be possible. With our contacts and reach – nobody bar the Cabal should be able to make her disappear like this. No - even the Cabal would not be able to do this without me at least being aware that they were the ones holding her.”

Red’s jaw clicked, “If I had been able to begin a search immediately, rather than waste two weeks lying in a medically induced coma. Perhaps I would not require approaching individuals who have promised decapitation if I were to enter their territory.”

He heard Dembe shift his weight in his stride, the only indication of his frustration at their ongoing argument.

“If you had searched immediately, you would be dead.”

“I have survived much worse than a simple car crash my friend.”

Tension slipped into his tone, “You flatlined twice whilst trying to leave.”

Red pursed his lips, “Yes, wasn’t I fortunate that you were awake long enough to intimidate the staff into putting me under.”

“My apologies for not suffering greater blood loss.”

Silence fell between them once more.

Since he had been woken from the coma just under two weeks ago, they had been at a constant stalemate over Dembe’s decision to incapacitate him so that his body would recover from the more life-threatening injuries.

It angered him that he could understand the action whilst adamantly hating it.

Seeing his charts, he was aware that he had been an inch from death. That if he had pushed through and tried to find Liz straight away, he would have collapsed and either choked to death on his own blood or succumbed to multiple infections in his weakened state.

Equally, there was a part of him that could not hold onto contempt for his friend due to his own abandonment of self-preservation in an effort to track Liz.

He had only stayed bed-ridden for four days; then once he could walk without collapsing, had found and followed what he could.

Not that it had offered much help.

She had been gone nearing a month.

“If you were to contact Agent Mojtabai?”

Red shot him a glare.

As more days passed, the temptation to contact and find the means to use the taskforces resources grew greater.

Yet to do that meant to risk Hitchin discovering that Liz was separated from them.

That the Cabal did not hold her was the one thing he did know in this whole situation.

If they had, by this point either an exchange would have been proposed, there would have been a flaunting of her capture to anger him or her body would have been delivered to break him.

The people he had keeping tabs on significant Cabal members also all reported that there had been no talk of Liz.

From the intel he had gathered on the taskforce, they were now aware of the warehouse explosion and crash but took the team of dead men surrounding where Liz had been taken the second time as Red’s people retrieving her.

Which apparently, was also what Hitchin’s and Peter believed had occurred.

That was one element that was keeping her safe.

It meant the Cabal were not racing to find her alongside him.

Yet to keep this illusion in-tact, it required conducting a search whilst making as little noise as possible.

Which lead to significantly fewer results than were retrievable without limitations.

“Has your colleague in Bangkok returned your call?” Red swept past the porter as he held open the lobby door. They had been at this hotel for a week yet he didn’t recall the man’s name.

He was slipping.

Dembe tilted his head, reaching forward to press the elevator call button, “Yes. The men we acquired raided all the known places held by those with ill feelings towards you. No sign.”

Red stepped inside, his hand shaking as he pushed for their floor, “Mr Kaplan?”

“Questioning all those she can without raising suspicion.”

“But nothing?”

He didn’t receive a reply.

Red closed his eyes, allowing his body to slump against the wall for a moment, “How can we not even be aware of which country she’s in?”

A hand fell on his shoulder, this time he did not shake it off.

He opened his eyes and looked up at his friend.

Red’s voice fell to a whisper, “Why can’t I find her?”

A gentle pressure squeezed, “You will Raymond. I know this.”

He reached up and clasped his friend’s hand. Gratitude and an apology.

The doors opened and they stepped into the suite.

Floor to ceiling glass panels boasted a breath-taking view over Tel Aviv with a lounge, bar and kitchen fitted to ensure not a moment was spent without admiring the extortionately priced beauty that was promised.

It could be a concrete wall with a broken slit gazing onto a dumpster for all Red could care.

He only went with the suite to maintain the image that everything was as normal.

“What of Darius?” Red opened his laptop and inserted a memory stick, “His husband still works in the UN – we can tap his resources.”

“Your wedding gift was the promise to not use those connections.”

He ignored the comment, “Darius never had the stomach for violence, send someone to press him, he will give us what we want.”

The disapproval was evident but it was not verbalised.

Red scanned the file, his brain racing through the vast list of names to analyse which would momentarily satisfy Omar’s bloodlust, “Has anymore come in from the border?”

Dembe placed the small phone in his hand back into the case filled with ten others like it and took out another, “No checkpoints had an injured Caucasian woman pass through in the week following the abduction.”

“Ports?”

“If they used –“

“Yes, if it was a private vessel she would have been slipped by,” Red dug his fingers into his scalp, a cold anger seeping into his tone, “If she was on a plane we would have found a trace, if she’d been trafficked out we would know, if she’d past through border control we would have been informed – whomever has had the gall –“

“Raymond.”

He looked up find Dembe holding up a phone screen, he quickly walked over and took it.

The screen was lit up on an email; it took a second to recall the sender name, but the image of a prickly elderly Ukrainian sprung to focus. Taras Demko. It must have been at least three years since he had held contact with the man.

_Erik,_

_I have information regarding the antique you held interest in. Please come to discuss at earliest convenience._

_Щирі вітання,_

_Taras Demko_

_Старовинні колектори,_

_вулиця Трьохсвятительська, 11/24, Київ_

Red’s head snapped up, “Dembe –“

“I know.” He already had a phone to his ear, stepping away as he arranged for the transport.

Red ran a hand over his mouth, collapsing into the nearest chair.

Kiev.

A lead.

* * * *

“A trap?”

Red raised an eyebrow in answer, his fingers tapping against the metal table and causing a slight rattle of the untouched coffee sitting in front of him.

His gaze was fixed on the reflection of the building placed behind him; observing the quiet stream of people wandering down the street.

Dembe sat opposite, taking the direct vantage point. Yet his eyes seemed to be held by the book in his hand; a well-worn copy of _Little Women_.

Regardless, if requested the man would be able to give an account of each individual in the immediate vicinity and if there were any weapons visible or concealed.

He would also be able to recite the top couple of lines of the page he was currently on, but that was more due to having read the book an exceptional amount of times rather than professional pride.

“If not a lead, then let’s hope so.” Red murmured, pressing two fingers against his lips.

In his line of business, the art of distinguishing between the anticipation towards a promise of a useful pay out and the slight unease at the sense of a set-up, was one that often meant the difference between life or death.

There are many, who early on in their careers make the simple mistake of assuming that these two feelings, anticipation and unease, are opposite to one another. That one can be told by the slight buzz in your chest and the other by a slow crawl up your spine.

These are often the ones to see an early grave.

The realisation that has to be learnt, is that these two feelings are in fact, one in the same.

If one were to approach a meeting with a belief that this was their break, that this was where it was all going to come together, that slight buzz attempting to warn of the gunman behind the door becomes the anticipation of finally achieving their desired outcome.

Yet, if one were to approach that same meeting with a dread that they had got this all wrong, that they were in too far over their head, that slight buzz becomes an unease which deprives the gunman of the chance to make a kill.

However, through all his years of learning to correctly read these two feelings, there was one more element he had come to find.

When one was truly desperate, anticipation and unease held no importance.

Whether a trap or a lead, it was an opportunity to gain more information than he currently held.

Red placed some coins on the table and made his way across the street.

The shop looked the same as when he had last been there a few years prior; a faded wooden frame around a display window that had seen cleaner days.

There was no sign indicating the business of the premises, there never had been; Demko had always been a collector for personal interest over public. If one were curious enough to seek him out, he was happy to sell or find items, however money was not his motivator.

He gave the door handle a push.

Locked.

Dembe stepped into his shadow as he slid out a pick to let themselves in.

The room was a cluttered maze of old furniture, lost trinkets and eery children’s toys shrouded in darkness. Not a speck of dust in sight, but also no evidence of any particular system of organisation.

The two men simultaneously pulled out their guns, keeping them pointed down by their hips as they silently moved into the space.

There was a staircase at the rear, which Red knew led up to Demko’s living area. Carefully, he manoeuvred over the antiques towards it, keeping a constant sweep for signs of movement in the multiple spots that provided easy concealment.

There was a slither of light under the closed door at the top.

Dembe touched his arm and he allowed the man to take the lead, mimicking his steps as he correctly chose which sections of the aged wood did not make a sound.

They paused at the top, listening for an indication of what was on the other side.

A light tap of metal against metal was the only distinguishable noise.

It could simply be that Demko was enjoying an evening meal.

Or it could be an assailant growing tiresome and fiddling with their weapon.

Red caught his friend’s eye and indicated to the door handle.

A test.

How much attention was someone paying to the door?

Dembe placed a hand on the metal and gave a gentle twist by a mere inch.

Immediately, the screech of a chair scraped across the floor and the unmistakable cock of a gun sounded through the door.

Red slammed his foot against the wood and stormed into the room gun raised in return.

An enraged demand was on the tip of his tongue but suddenly the breath in his lungs was snatched away by the sight before him.

“For goodness sake Red I almost shot you!”

Liz lowered her weapon, running a hand through her hair and looking over her shoulder at Demko who was sitting behind her with a startled expression, a fork with a piece of steak still raised to his mouth. 

“Sorry Taras,” She chuckled, “Didn’t mean to give you such a fright.”

The older man blinked, then glanced down at his fork and popped the steak in his mouth, “It is okay,” He replied around the food in his mouth; picking up his plate and standing, “I feel very safe now.”

Liz shook her head and patted his shoulder as he passed by, disappearing into the next room.

She turned back to them, crossing her arms with a smirk, “So – took you long enough.”

Red couldn’t move.

It was as if he had stepped into a dream.

She was here.

Standing before him with that familiar teasing glint in her eye.

There was another meal laid out next to Demko, who seemed at ease and friendly with the young woman, indicating she had likely been staying here for at least a few days.

She was here.

How was she here?

Life crashed back through him as Dembe stepped past, pushing down the gun he hadn’t realised he was still holding up as he did so, to pull Liz into a crushing hug.

“Elizabeth,” Dembe murmured, stepping back but keeping one hand on her shoulder, “It is good to see you.”

Liz clasped his hand with both of hers, a light sheen of water soaking into her gaze as it was drawn to the scar on his neck, “Dembe…”

“Tis but a scratch,” The corner of his mouth quirked up.

A choked laugh burst from her lips and she pulled him into another hug, “I can’t believe you watched the movie without me.”

“You decided to get kidnapped.”

She stepped back and gave him a light punch on the arm, “That’s no excuse for breaking a movie pledge.”

Dembe tilted his head, his eyes roaming over her with a soft fondness, then he gave a nod and stepped aside, glancing to where Red was still stood by the door.

Liz followed his gaze and when her eyes finally met his, Red saw the composed, unshaken exterior she was displaying stutter.

He dropped his gun and raised his arms, her name falling from his lips in a mixture of elation and plea.

“Lizzie.”

He stumbled back as she crashed into him. His arms locked around her, one hand gripping her waist as the other dug into her hair. He turned his face into the side of her head as she buried it into his neck, her arms clinging together over his shoulders.

Red felt her body begin to tremble and he tightened his hold, pressing his lips just above her ear and murmuring soothing words.

Slowly the tension eased from her muscles and she relaxed into his hold; he could feel a slight dampness from where some tears had escaped.

She leant back and shifted to rest her forehead against his, her arms still gripped around his neck.

“I knew you were alive,” She whispered.

He tilted his head, his nose bumping against hers, “I prayed you were.”

She opened her eyes and ran her fingers down the side of his face, he leant into the touch and met her gaze.

A soft smile shone out to him, “I am.”

Red took the hand on his cheek and placed a kiss to her palm, “That is fortunate for whomever took you.”

Liz rolled her eyes and drew his hand down as she linked their fingers together, “Look – I’m going to tell you who it was but you have to promise to accept the fact I’ve already dealt with them.”

“Dead?”

She pointed a finger in his face, “Not dead – dealt with. Promise?”

“Lizzie…”

“Promise?” She narrowed her eyes.

He sighed and squeezed her hand, “Very well. I will adhere to your handling of the situation – unless it arises once more.”

She shrugged, “That’s what I told him as well so that’s fair.”

Red scanned her face, an uncomfortable thought emerging, “Him?”

He saw the answer flash through her eyes.

Rage flooded through his veins.

“I’m going to kill him.” He muttered, pulling out his phone, “I - am going to - kill him.”

The device disappeared from his grip along with the feel of her hand linked to his.

Liz slipped the phone into her back pocket and raised an eyebrow, “What did I just say?”

“He has been a danger to you for too long!” He stepped forward and tried to retrieve the phone but she dodged and collapsed into a chair.

“He saw an opportunity and he took it,” She shrugged, then sighed and reached out a hand to him, “Come here.”

Red glanced to Dembe but his friend seemed to be of the mind to follow their companions wishes regarding the matter.

Traitor.

He took her hand and crouched in front of her seat, “Did he hurt you?”

“If he had, he _would_ be dead.” She stroked a thumb over his cheek, “Look, it turns out he’d been following us for a while – he had this whole idea in his head that he’s in love with me and that we could somehow still be together. I made it very clear that is not the case and I’m pretty certain he got the message.”

Red frowned and opened his mouth but two fingers pressed against it.

“He took me from Peter’s men, patched me up, we had a conversation where I made it clear that if I saw him again he would get a bullet in his head, I left and he didn’t follow,” She fixed him with a stern gaze, “It is done and closed. It is not a discussion.”

There were few people in the world who felt they could order him in such a way.

There was only one whom he would listen to.

“As you wish.” He pulled her fingers from his lips.

Liz grinned and glanced between Dembe and himself, “Oh come on – you watched both of them!”

Red chuckled and straightened up, pulling forward another chair to take a seat next to her, “Please Lizzie – I am no heathen. I saw that movie long ago.”

She lifted her legs and settled them into his lap, shooting a smirk to Dembe who took a seat at the far end of the table, “I guess we know who the least cultured of us is then.”

He simply reached forward and took a sip of her wine.

Liz shook her head with a fond smile, “Oh!” She suddenly exclaimed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a piece of folded paper, “One useful thing I did get from my captor – guess who owned that account in Cairo?”

Red’s hand momentarily tightened against her ankle at the mention of Tom Keen, however he controlled the reaction and resumed a gentle stroking motion, “I must admit I had forgotten about that, who was it?”

She held out the paper, “Peter.”

His eyes widened and he took it off her, quickly scanning through the information before passing it to Dembe, “He’s embezzling? My, I never thought him to be so bold – then again, I never thought him to order a truck to hit me so I guess he is just full of surprises.”

“We can do something with this right?” Liz raised an eyebrow, “I mean this has got to be big.”

Red took back the paper and placed it in his jacket pocket, “There are many options the information presents my dear, however, none that cannot wait until tomorrow.”

Liz sighed and leant back, stretching her arms above her head with a groan, “I’ve been waiting for days to get started.”

“Then what is one more?” He tilted his head, “Besides, you have yet to divulge how you came to be at the home of an old acquaintance whom I have not held contact with for years and am certain I had not mentioned.”

She grinned, “I don’t know why you hadn’t – Taras is lovely and he’s been showing me his collection, did you know he has some items that are over one thousand years old?”

A gravely voice entered as the side door to the next room creaked open, “Молода леді. I told you that was secret – you think I want all these criminals coming to steal my valuables?”

Liz stood up and rushed over to take the rattling tray holding two cups and a pot of tea from the elder man, “Oh come on Taras, these two are friendly criminals.”

Demko looked between the two men and huffed, “Дружні, як змії.”

Red chuckled, the man had certainly not softened in his old age.

He rose and stepped forward to hold out a hand, “Mr Demko, a pleasure to see you once more. May I say, your shop is as eclectic as last I saw it.”

“Fancy way to say messy,” He scoffed, but shook the offered hand, “Mr Reddington.”

Red gestured to his friend, “And this is Dembe, I do not believe you met on the few occasions I came to collect purchases.”

Demko simply nodded to the man and re-took his seat, letting Liz fuss over him.

It seemed even reclusive grumpy old men were not immune to Elizabeth Keen’s charm.

“Well, you can take my word that nobody’s going to pocket anything,” She patted his shoulder, pouring him a cup of tea, “Because if they did, they’d have me to answer to.”

The collector let out a wheezy laugh and reached back to squeeze her arm, “If that is so, then I guess my antiques will be secure.”

“You know it.” She winked, taking a seat next to him.

Red fought back the urge to roll his eyes; after seven months he should no longer be surprised by Liz, yet here he was once more.

Almost two weeks desperately attempting to hunt her down and she is the one to inform them where she is.

He would feel irked by his failure if not awed by her success.

Of which he had still yet to learn how was achieved.

Red reclaimed his own seat and rested his linked hands on the table, “Mr Demko, since I have still yet to receive the means of how we all came to be together, perhaps with you I will find the answer to how Lizzie arrived at your door.”

He caught the smug grin directed at him from the woman in question.

She was certainly revelling in holding information that he was not privy to.

Demko shrugged, taking a sip of his tea, “How do I know? She just appeared – knocked on the door and asked to come in. I was eating breakfast and suddenly I have Russian spy washing my dishes.”

A brief noise that seemed suspiciously like a laugh came from the right and Red glanced to Dembe, but his expression was neutral.

“She asked if I remembered doing business with you and if I had any contact that might still work,” He continued, “I say I don’t know things like that so she ask if she can look through what I do have to try and find something – I did not care, so she did.”

Liz sighed, running a hand over her face, “Yeah and I’m still amazed I did find anything!”

Demko waved a hand, “I do not need to organise – I do not want to contact these people.”

She shook her head, clearly having had this conversation before, and turned to Red, “I had to physically scroll through and read thousands of emails to find one that sounded like it might be something you had written. Even then I sent the message to about twenty different accounts in the end because I wasn’t sure which one might have been connected to you. I’m just lucky it turned out I found one that is apparently still active.”

Dembe tilted his head, “I have a subscription to The Washington Post with that email.”

Liz turned to him, “Is that your way of telling me that the only reason I managed to get in contact is because you still keep that account open to read the news?”

“They require online subscriptions to maintain a level of quality,” He replied.

A grin broke out across her face, “Of course they do.”

Red frowned, tapping a finger against the table, “Why not call one of the emergency numbers? These are the occasions for which you were supposed to learn them.”

“Surprisingly, after being out of it for three weeks my brain wasn’t at its best,” She leant back with a pointed look, crossing her arms, “The ones I could recall turned out to be ones we’d already disconnected and even though I did get in contact with Maddie – _someone_ had failed to leave her a way to contact us.”

Red’s lips tightened. In their haste he must have negated to provide the doctor with a number.

Yet he could have made contact.

He had been so focused on tracking those who could have taken Liz, he had not thought to check those who she may have contacted if she had escaped.

That was an unforgivable oversight.

“So basically,” She continued, placing a hand over his and given it a gentle squeeze; a gesture to inform that she had been speaking in jest, “I was in Turkey - that’s where he got us to - with his cash and fake passports I’d stolen, wondering where to next.”

Demko coughed, patting his jacket and pulling out a faded handkerchief, “Turkey? Заради Бога, I thought you already in Ukraine. Why you come all the way to my shop from there?”

Red held an equal tone of surprise, “You travelled from Turkey to Ukraine?”

“Well I had to get out of the country and I wanted to pass through the least number of borders,” She shrugged, “Plus I needed to chose somewhere I had a chance at finding someone connected to you.”

“Three borders lie between those two countries on both routes.”

Liz looked over to Dembe and pointed a finger at him, “Not if you cross the Black Sea there aren’t.”

Red closed his eyes, releasing a deep drawn out breath.

There had not been public transport across the Black Sea in years.

Yet she had crossed it.

And located an acquaintance she did not know and had not met.

Turkey to Ukraine.

How many things could have befallen her in that journey?

It should have not been a task required of her.

A light touch captured his chin and he opened his eyes to an amused gaze.

“If you’re going through a ‘the fair maiden should not have gone through this’ spiral I’m not going to tell you the story.”

“Wishing the event was unnecessary is not equivalent to believing you incapable of going through it.”

She narrowed her eyes and scanned her face.

His words were not untruthful.

It was only ever his own fears for her safety that momentarily blinded him to her capabilities.

That did not mean he was ever one to underestimate her.

After a moment she withdrew her hand and sat back, “Good.”

She took a large gulp of her tea and resettled in her chair.

“Okay – so yeah like I said I was in Turkey. I was trying to think of the nearest country that I could remember anyone who I might be able to use to contact you two. But the only people who I could remember names of or where they lived where all America or further north continental Europe – and I was pretty certain I wouldn’t be able to make it that far.”

“But then, I randomly remembered this one story you told me once,” Her eyes flicked to him, “It was a while back, in the days of FBI agent and consultant.”

“Another life.” He muttered.

She smiled, resting her chin in her hand, “I know right. Anyway, we were working on some case and I was telling you all this pointless information about the suspect. You were doing your usual pretending to listen but then when I mentioned he had a second home in Kiev you perked up. Gave me this story about a little antique shop you used to go to which had the most beautiful view of the sunset behind a golden domed monastery.”

“Ukraine was nearer than all the other places, so I thought if I got to Kiev I could probably narrow down where this antique shop was and hope the same person was still there and remembered you.”

A flash of excitement lit her tone as she recalled her process, “I went to the main ports and managed to befriend a lovely woman who lived nearby. I stayed with her and her family for a few days and eventually she decided she wanted to help me. She told her husband to sneak me onto the cargo ship he worked on that crossed over the sea. I don’t think he was too happy with the idea but she was not someone that you said no to.”

“I had already exchanged three of Tom’s fake passports for a Ukrainian one that I could add my picture to and use. But in the end, I snuck off the ship on the other side without bumping into any authorities. Then I bussed up to Kiev, found the golden monastery and spent a couple of days scouting out the buildings surrounding it until I found an antique shop.”

Liz glanced over to Demko, “Luckily Taras’ was one of the first I came across.”

The older man scoffed, “Because no other’s have any skill. Open and then close after few months. No eye.”

He stood up, wiping down his shirt and then pointed to the two other men, “You two – not staying here tonight,” He looked back to Liz, “You can stay if you wish.”

Liz smiled and rose to give him a kiss on the cheek, “That’s very kind of you, but don’t worry, we’ll all get out of your hair – I’ve used your hospitality for too long already.”

Demko grunted, shuffling under the attention, “Так. Well, clean up when you leave.”

Despite the abrupt dismissal, he took Liz’s hand and gave it a quick peck before shuffling out of the room, ignoring the other two occupants.

Liz chuckled and turned to her friends, “I can tell I didn’t choose your biggest fan.”

“I do not take it personally; I believe you are the first I have seen to achieve a factor of approval,” Red also stood and Dembe followed suit, “Yet making our way to a different premise is an agreeable idea.”

Liz smiled, “I’ll just clean this up,” She placed the cups and empty plate on the tray and headed to the kitchen, “You’d better have my luggage with you because I have been wearing the same two outfits for over a week.”

She disappeared through the door and the rush of a tap and clink of dishes quickly followed.

Red stared through the slight gap, watching her shadow as it flittered across the floor, confirming that she was still there.

He felt Dembe take a place at his shoulder.

“Do you ever wonder,” Red murmured, not taking his gaze from the door, “How much farther we would be in our endeavour against the Cabal if Lizzie had been fully brought into the fold at an earlier date?”

A soft tuneful hum flowed from the kitchen.

“She would have arrested you.”

He chuckled, “I suppose that is true. I hardly came across as the most trustworthy of individuals.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

The shadow danced across the floor as she began putting items away.

“She’s too good for me Dembe.”

The words escaped in a whisper.

“That is not your decision.”

The clink of dishes had stopped.

The shadow neared the door.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up as his friend leant in to speak quietly into his ear.

“Raymond – she remembers your stories.”

Dembe stepped away just as Liz stepped back into the room.

“We ready?” She walked over and linked her fingers with Red, dropping her head onto his shoulder, “Cause I’m desperate for a sleep on something that is not a couch or an old camping bed.”

Red looked down at the woman leaning against him, her eyes already half-closed.

The sharp, on-edge exterior gone.

Complete trust that she had no need to maintain her defences.

What had he done to deserve this?

She adjusted her head, glancing up at him, “Red?”

Perhaps he done nothing.

Perhaps that was the point.

Elizabeth Keen had chosen to grace him with her presence, and more importantly, her trust.

It was his privilege to try and earn it.

He released her fingers, wrapping an arm around her waist and she retook his hand with her other one, letting them rest against her hip.

Red leant down and placed a kiss on top of her head.

“You my dear, are the most remarkable person I have ever known.”

A light chuckle tickled his shoulder.

“Well then, I’d better hope you don’t meet too many more people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, did we really think Liz would need the lads help getting home?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you thought - whenever I get an email telling me I have a kudos or comment it absolutely makes my day! 
> 
> Also I'm very much hoping you guys all know what two films they briefly referenced here! Cause they're ones everyone should see! If you don't know - drop a comment and I'll let you know so you can have the joy of them too! Although one I do prefer over the other.


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